


A Dance for Three

by GraarPlacemat



Series: Three Boys in Love [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballroom Dancing, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, pharmacophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraarPlacemat/pseuds/GraarPlacemat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean likes him, Eren reminded himself. He’d probably hate me if I started spending all my time with Marco when he’s the one who likes him.<br/>Though it was becoming a big possibility that, maybe possibly probably, Jean wasn’t the only one who was smitten with Marco.<br/>[NO LONGER DISCONTINUED]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart's a Quickstep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I'm back, and I've got another multichapter Erejeanmarco for y'all. Some little things;  
> 1\. Pharmacophobia(fear of medicine) and fears of drugs and alcohol are a big part of this story. I really don't mean to alienate people who do drink and all that stuff, but somehow that became a theme here and I didn't have the heart to change it. Please know that I bear no ill will towards anyone who engages in these activities, despite my own phobias regarding the subject.  
> 2\. I had a number two and forgot about it. Whoops.  
> 3\. I can't open Rich Text Editor, for some reason? So the text's a little wonky and all my italics are gone. I'll figure it out later, so I'm sorry if it looks kind of weird for now.  
> Well, I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you so very much for reading. :)  
> UPDATE: Rich Text is working for me again! Yay!

“Nice to meet you,” he’d said.

And, for the most part, it had been the truth. The guy seemed pretty sane. He didn’t smell like any questionable substances(Not that Eren had expected him to - the dorm parent had specified that he was pharmacophobic and, with Eren having requested someone who wouldn’t be drinking all the time, it was pretty much a perfect match). His hair looked kind of dumb, but hey, Eren was willing to forgive that.

He looked like a twig, though. And he had an expression on his face like he was sniffing a heap of manure. And when he’d told Eren his name, he’d been so bratty about the way he specified, “Jean. Not John. Not Jeen. Jean.” And then when he’d written down his and Eren’s name on the whiteboard hanging on the door to their room, he’d spelled Eren’s name as Aaron and hadn’t bothered changing it when Eren had told him that it was incorrect.

Still, despite all that, Eren was willing to forgive and forget. At least Jean was clean. At least he kept to his side of the room. At least he didn’t keep Eren up all night.

And, for the most part, this arrangement worked. Eren and Jean got along better than most stories of horrific roommates would imply; They worked out their laundry schedules, they studied at the same time, and when lights out came for one, usually it was lights out for the other, too.

There was even something companionable about their time together. They were in a couple of the same classes, and they’d both somehow joined a musical(Hello, Dolly. Shut up.), a substance-free society(He had his reasons. Shut up.), and a ballroom dancing club(He used to do it with his sister. Shut up.) without the other realizing. They were both awkward when communicating with other people and prone to argument when faced with differing opinion. In their required History class, the two either tore the classroom apart when they were up against one another or tore apart the opposition when they worked together.

Yes, they had their fallings-out, but they always managed to overcome them. Their tussles were more often used as stress relief then as resolutions to actual arguments. They respected each other. They were friends – better than any other pair of roommates they’d met.

At least, they were until one fateful day in November.

 

“Eren,” Jean panted, throwing open their door. It was nine o’clock.

Eren gladly tore his eyes from his Environmental Justice textbook to look at his undeclared roommate. “What?”

“Have you been to the library lately? The one on the corner, closest to us?”

“I’ve been trying to avoid it since Annie started working there. She’s pretty strict about the whole quietness thing.”

“Then stop muttering to yourself when you’re writing.”

“Shut up. What were you talking about?”

Jean grinned broadly, tossing his backpack to the floor as he spun himself around to land in his bed. Eren rolled his eyes – here came the whole “I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it” spiel that was born every time Jean found a new crush – and Jean began to speak. “You know that sophomore who’s been playing the piano for us at our balls? The one who improvised a Panic! song that one time?”

“When you lost to me in that lifting competition?”

"Yeah. Wait – I didn’t lose!”

“I think, if I can lift you and you can’t lift me, that qualifies as a loss.”

“Whatever.” He toed off his shoes, still lying prone on his bed, and kicked them off the side. “And you know he’s Barnaby in Hello, Dolly, right?”

Eren tapped his pen on his jaw a couple times before remembering. “The one with the freckles.”

“Yeah, him! Well, he’s working at that library now. With Annie. Or maybe she was just training him or something.”

“He seems nice.”

“His name’s Marco,” Jean sighed dreamily. He opened his eyes. “Shoot, I forgot.” He got up and re-opened the door, erasing “Eren” from their whiteboard and replacing it with “Aaron”.

“Aaron” leered at him. “Stop doing that.”

“Anyway,” Jean continued, ignoring him, “He’s really cool. We talked for, like, an hour. I think he might actually think I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay.”

“Shut up.”

“How did you talk to him with Annie there?”

“Oh, after she was done showing him how to, like, shelve books or something, she left him alone. And then I moved right on in.”

“Well,” Eren exhaled, turning reluctantly back to his textbook, “I hope you have better luck with him than with my sister.”

“Dude, your sister doesn’t even go here. Stop mentioning that.”

“There’s still plenty of ways to be suave over Skype, man. Did you get his number?”

Jean grumbled into his mattress. “No. He’s a music major. I didn’t have any decent excuses.”

Eren grimaced. “Tough one.”

“Tell me about it.”

Eren swung back and forth in his chair a couple times. “Well,” he muttered, “I’m not getting any work done. Guess I’ll go to bed.”

“It’s not even nine-thirty!”

“Well, what do you suggest? I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Why do you do everything right on time,” Jean asked, letting one arm droop over the side of his bed, “Except the stuff that pertains to your major? I thought you liked environmental stuff, dude.”

“I’m _bored_ ,” Eren grumbled, “There’s so much of it. It just gets annoying after a while.”

Jean bit his lip. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Don’t _you_ have any work to do?”

A red flush crept over his cheeks. “I finished my homework waiting for Annie to leave Marco alone.”

"You creeper. Next time, you should just get Reiner or Bertholdt to distract her.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think even her own boyfriends could catch her off-track.”

Eren nodded, absently flipping the pages of his textbook. “Movie sounds nice.”

“Better than reading about birds and trees or whatever you’re learning about now.”

“This stuff is actually moderately interesting. It goes into evaluations of social justice combined with environmental issues – like, where social and economic class comes into play when considering how much exposure people get to pollution. It would be tons of fun if not for the fact that I’m already tired of reading about renewable energy.”

"That does sound kinda cool, actually,” Jean replied, raising his eyebrows. “Can I see that?”

“You wanna read my _textbook_?”

“Hey, it’s not for any class of mine. That qualifies it as something I’m actually interested in reading.”

“How about we watch a movie instead.”

“ _Fiiine._ ” Jean reached down to the floor and grabbed his laptop. “What do you wanna see?”

Eren pursed his lips and tapped his fingers. “John Adams. That miniseries.”

“Excellent. More shit-tastic historical junk.”

“It’s good! Trust me, I’ve watched it a million times.”

“Let’s watch, like, an action thing. Or a comedy. Hell, a chick flick would be more fun than another historical documentary.”

“Okay, one – it’s not a documentary, this one’s a dramatization, and a totally badass one at that. Two – You keep suggesting chick flicks as alternatives to movies I wanna see. Are you hiding something, Jean? Are you secretly hoping that, someday, I’ll be like, yeah, why not watch The Notebook?”

Jean stiffened. “No.”

"Dude, if you want to, just say it. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Watch what you wanna watch.”

Jean squinted at him for a moment. Then he said, “Wanna watch Bridesmaids?”

“What? With all that buildup, I thought you’d go for something _not_ funny. Like, tragic and stuff.”

“Is that a no?”

“… No.”

 

They had a ball every two weeks, with varying themes. Since it was a club activity, people could choose whether they wanted to wear more formal attire or if they’d just go in sweatpants and enjoy the evening – although there were a few larger balls dispersed through the year where it was insisted that people be fancy. The club was sponsored by the same substance-free society that Eren and Jean were part of, so the two could normally attend without any worries. This ball, as per the usual for their more low-key gatherings, was held in a wide hall in the conservatory, which came with its own piano, a little stage for a band to gather on, and remarkable acoustics all around.

It had been two days since Jean had spoken to Marco in the library, and he had not stopped jabbering away at Eren about how he was _so_ going to get his number tonight the entire day. Eren had rolled his eyes a couple times, but all the same, he was glad Jean was excited.

That being said, after rehearsal, Eren figured he’d go straight to the ball in his typical workout getup(since they’d been doing choreography today), a tank and some bike shorts. Despite the chill outside, he hadn’t seemed bothered as he’d stood talking to Jean.

“What do you need to change for? You’re already in good clothes for dancing.”

Jean rubbed his arms, shivering, as he replied. “I have to look charming and interesting and alluring, Eren. I can’t look charming and interesting and alluring in my own hours-old sweat.”

Eren raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Whatever you say, dude. Don’t take too long, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Jean said sternly, “No silly tangoing tonight. I’m on a mission and I can’t be seen doing silly tangoes with other men.”

“But I can’t just do silly tangoes with Connie or Sasha. They always do that with each other.”

“Find yourself a nice man-slash-woman-slash-what-have-you to practice foxtrotting with.”

“I hate the foxtrot.”

“Only because you suck at it.”

Eren stuck out his tongue. “Go make yourself pretty.”

“Go dance like a lunatic.”

Eren snickered as he loped in the direction of the conservatory, giving Jean a wave as they parted. It was already pretty dark outside despite the hour, because of their northern location and the time of year. Within minutes, he could see golden light from the windows of the ballroom.

Christa, who was manning the door, gave him a smile and a little wave. “Hi, Eren! Coming from rehearsal again?”

“Yep! Jean went to change.”

“I was just thinking – it’s unusual for you two not to be together. Well, I’m sure you’ll make up for it with a dance later!”

“None of that tonight, I’m afraid,” Eren replied, trying to ignore the implication she’d made about his relationship with Jean – it happened all the time with their friend group, despite their insistences that they were strictly friends. “Jean’s got a crush on the pianist.”

Christa pursed her lips. “Bummer! Well, you can dance with me when I get off, if you want!”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, giving her a grin as he strolled into the hall. Waving to Mina and Thomas, he went to get a bottle of water before he started sweating again. There was a stately four-four tune playing, perfect for foxtrotting. Not that he would be foxtrotting. He hated the foxtrot with a burning passion.

 _Right,_ he thought to himself, _Where’s that Marco guy?_

Looking around, he saw that Marco must have taken the early shift on the piano – which Jean would surely be happy about, as he would be able to talk to him later. He smiled serenely as he played, eyes half-closed. Eren didn’t know much about piano – or instruments in general – but he noticed that Marco seemed a lot more relaxed when playing then Armin did. More… zen? What a pretentious word. But it fit.

Marco’s expression as he played reminded Eren of something. What was it?

“Eren!” Sasha called as she barreled through the crowd toward him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much – I just got here. How about you?”

“Yeah, same,” she said, tugging on one sleeve of her sweater-dress. “Have you seen Connie? I can’t remember if he said he was coming tonight. I think he might have something else going on."

“If he does, we can dance together. Jean’s on a mission.”

Sasha waggled her eyebrows. “A… _romance_ mission? Can I help?”

Eren laughed. “You can try.” That was one thing he liked about Sasha. He’d only had to tell her that Jean and himself weren’t a couple once before she left him alone about it. He could count on her not to say anything about “troubles in paradise” or “the poly is spreading”.

Just then, the music changed from the loathsome standard to a jumpier swing. Eren approved. “Care to dance?”

“I like that idea!” Sasha beamed. The two grabbed hold of one another and threw themselves into the rhythm.

It was nice, dancing with Sasha. She didn’t push like Jean did; she just let Eren lead. Sometimes, Eren’s usual partner was a little resistant about following and it could get messy when they were both feeling bullheaded.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Jean stroll into the room. As he and Sasha danced, he kept an eye on his roommate, who eventually settled at the edge of the crowd, chatting with whoever came by. Well, there wasn’t much he could do while Marco was still playing – though, surely, he’d switch out soon enough and Jean would be able to talk to him. Eren continued dancing with Sasha.

A few minutes later, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Hey,” Jean muttered, “Can I dance with you?”

Eren frowned, then looked to Sasha. She shrugged and wandered off. “Sure, I guess. I thought we weren’t dancing tonight?”

“We’re not tangoing. We can do normal dances. Besides, I’m getting nervous. Did he start on the piano?”

“Yeah, he’s got the early shift.”

“Let me lead. Please.”

Eren almost argued. Then he decided against it. “Fine.”

They began waltzing in time with the music. Jean kept glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t they usually switch by now? What if he’s playing the whole night?”

“Then you’ve just got to get to him next time. Relax. Have some fun.”

“What if he drinks? Or… does other stuff?”

The question caught Eren off-guard. Most of these questions had either been asked before or were to be expected. Eren hadn’t expected Jean’s phobia to come into this.

“Would that bother you?”

Jean’s brow was furrowed. “I think so. I don’t know. It’s hard knowing when you don’t, and Connie and Sasha don’t, and most of our friends don’t. It just – occurred to me, because he plays and I don’t know if he’d be here if he wasn’t with the band, he might not actually be affiliated with the substance-free thing.”

Eren twisted his mouth, not saying anything for a moment. He understood Jean’s concern; he got nervous at the prospect of meeting new people who might not share his opinion on substances, too. Perhaps he didn’t have a strong phobia like Jean, but he could relate from his experiences – and, no matter how often he told himself that there were ten times more people who did these things and received no negative impact on their lives than there were people whose lives spiraled out of control because of them, he couldn’t shake his anxiety on the subject.

“I hate to say it,” he murmured back, “because I know this is the least helpful advice in the world – but… Cross that bridge when you get to it. Don’t get worked up over something that may not even be reality.”

“Okay,” Jean heaved a sigh. “Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder again and stiffened. “He’s switching out. Shit. Eren, come talk to him with me.”

“What? No. You’re a grown-up, Jean, talk to him yourself.”

“I’m too nervous! I’ll mess everything up. Please come with me. I’ll watch fifty million historical thingamajigs. I’ll let you lead without complaining. I’ll stop killing bugs with your books.”

"Wait, that was _you_?!”

“And I’ll never do it again if you come with me! I swear!”

Eren squinted at him. “Here’s an idea. Stop changing my name to Aaron.”

“Nope.”

“Then you can forget it.”

“Please! Pretty please! With Benjamin Franklin and a French prostitute on top!”

He was doing his absolute best at puppy eyes, which was a little absurd because he was doing it to The Man Who Has Puppy Eyes Even When He’s Not Trying. Eren fought the urge to laugh.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Seriously? You’ll do it?!”

“Only because you’re so pathetic.”

“You’re amazing, Eren. You’re the absolute best.”

“Hush. You’ve gotta focus, alright? Focus on Marco. You can do this.”

“Right, right.” Jean took yet another deep breath before leading Eren across the room to where Marco was sitting on the side of their mock-stage, sipping some water before joining the elegantly dancing throng. He started to call out, choked on his words, and called out again, “Hey, Marco!”

The boy looked up, his eyebrows creasing slightly as if he was having trouble recognizing Jean’s voice. By the time him and Eren had reached Marco’s side, however, Marco’s face had lit up in recognition. He smiled at them. “Hi! You were at the library the other day, Jean, right? It’s nice to see you again!”

“Yeah, same to you,” Jean stammered slightly as he said the words, but managed to keep on track. “You - your piano playing is great. I really don’t know much about it, but…”

Eren nodded. “My friend, Armin, plays piano, and - well - you’re good, I think. Really good.”

Marco blinked in reply. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Oh, wait, hold on - I see you two dancing together a lot, you guys are great! Are you together?”

It took the other two a moment to reply. Once they’d found their words, however, Marco was accosted by a flurry of “What, him?”s “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!”s and “Never. That would never happen”s.

“Oh,” Marco gasped, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I really shouldn’t have assumed - Well, uh, what’s your name?”

“Eren.”

“I’m Marco.” He shook hands with Eren. Marco’s hand was soft, but firm in its grip - a straightforward handshake that made Eren feel, for the second time that night, like he was being reminded of something - What _was_ it? That was really odd.

Once they broke off, Marco gave this little smile - Eren could have sworn that smile held the cure to cancer in it - and asked, “So, are you a freshman, too? Have you declared a major?”

“Oh - uh, yeah! I’m doing Environmental Science. I’d like to - well, this probably sounds stupid, but… I’d like to make a difference, I guess. This world is too beautiful to be smashed to smithereens like we’re doing right now.”

“That’s so noble of you! I feel like such a nerd for my Music major, now.”

This conversation was centering a lot on him, and Eren knew it. Glancing at Jean - who had some vaguely jealous squinty-eyed look on his face, _come on man, Eren was trying_ \- he tried turning the tides of the conversation. “W-well, that’s better than Jean, here. He keeps talking about how he doesn’t care what he majors in, as long as it’s ‘marketable’.”

Marco laughed, but Jean took his distraction as an opportunity to stare daggers at Eren. Gosh, he was getting flat-out aggressive over this. Eren gave him a shrug - at least Jean would be able to talk now. “I just want to be able to live a comfortable life, is all. I mean, what kind of job can you even get with something like Environmental Science? At least Biology has some field options.”

“Well,” Marco pondered, “You could really say the same about Music. I could join a symphony, or become a teacher, but that’s really the limit for any stable career. I mean, composing would be nice, but that’s assuming anyone even likes my stuff. Don’t you think the most important thing is to do something you enjoy?”

Jean furrowed his brow. Eren bit his lip. Neither of them particularly agreed with this statement - though they certainly had very different reasons for that. Eren took the opportunity to say, “Hey, I’m pretty hungry. I’m gonna tackle the snack table.”

Jean gave him a look of panic as he walked away, unable to protest with Marco sitting right there. Eren gave him an encouraging nod and continued on his way - it was best not to usurp more of the conversation when Jean had so desperately wanted to impress Marco. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet, but this was the best thing for Jean right now.

He found Sasha again, who was, coincidentally, at the snack table, chewing leisurely on one of the mini-sandwiches offered there, chatting with Christa and Thomas. He bid them all hello.

“ _So,_ ” Sasha began expectantly.

Eren frowned. “So, what?”

“How’s Jean’s operation going?”

Thomas lifted his eyebrows. “Operation? What operation?”

“Operation,” Sasha replied, pointing to where Jean was chatting with Marco, “Piano Man.”

Christa and Thomas craned their necks - terribly conspicuously, Eren noted with a grimace - and then turned back to the group. “I thought you and him had a thing going, Eren,” was the first thing out of Thomas’s mouth. Eren glared at him. He stared right back.

“There is no ‘thing’ between Jean and me,” Eren hissed. “We’re good friends and I really wish you guys would stop pretending we’re together. It’s getting really old.”

“Suit yourself,” Thomas said, raising his hands and backing of a little. “You just have so much chemistry, you know?”

“Stop,” Sasha told him. “It’s not funny. And it’s not funny when you talk about Connie and me like that, either. Just don’t.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Really.”

Eren pursed his lips but didn’t pursue it any further. Christa awkwardly clapped her hands together. “Um… How about that dance, Eren?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, let’s go!”

He and Christa joined the quickstep that was playing, and Eren kept an eye on Jean the entire time. He seemed mostly alright - A little awkward, but alright.

“Bad,” Jean grumbled into his hands as they walked up the stairs to their dorm. “It was _bad,_ Eren, really bad.”

“It can’t have been. You were talking forever.”

“Trust me. It was awful.”

Eren took his key out of his pocket as they approached their room. “He seemed friendly enough when we were saying goodbye.”

“It was - It was different, when you weren’t around. Like, he was still nice and stuff, I just - I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t say anything. There were so many gaps.”

“Hey,” Eren replied, reaching up to their whiteboard when they’d come to their door and erasing the word “Aaron” to replace it with “Eren”, “You got his number, didn’t you? He said he wanted to talk more.”

“He said the same to you.”

“But he said it to you first. He only included me as a courtesy.”

Jean pouted his lip out a little. “You think so?”

“I do. Now go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

Jean strolled up to his bed and collapsed onto it. “Thanks a lot, Eren. For helping out.”

“No problem, man.”

Eren wandered around the library, brushing his hands over the spines of books as he went. He didn’t have any particular aim in being there - he just liked the quiet, sometimes, punctuated by the whisper of pages being flipped and people quietly talking.

He was also, by Jean’s request, looking for Marco. But that was a side aim - he needed to decompress. Finals were approaching fast, Jean was keeping him up all night talking about how perfect Marco was, his shoulders were aching, he was getting more and more bored by the subject matter of his main classes… The list went on and on. He needed some down time. Some time where he didn’t have to think about anything.

Annie had been manning the front desk, but apparently Marco had told Jean that he was working today(At least, that’s how Eren assumed he’d gotten the information), so he figured if he wandered the aisles, he’d eventually find his quarry.

Sure enough, as he was absently paging through a non-fiction piece, he heard someone approach from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he verified that, yes, it was Marco, and gave a little smile and wave. Marco beamed at him - God, that smile really could cure cancer - and waved back, putting down the pile of books he was holding before he did so. “Hey, you! Eren, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, Marco.”

“It’s nice seeing you again. What brings you here today?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just looking around a bit.”

“Well, I’ve got some books to shelve, here. Don’t mind me, I’ll be gone in no time.”

That might not be good. Eren would have to improvise a little. What had Jean even wanted Eren to talk to Marco about? He hadn’t been all that specific.

“It’s not a problem. I’m not really absorbed in anything right now.” An idea came to him. “Hey, why don’t I help you? It must be a pain having to pick up and carry all those books just to put them down all the time. Let me carry them for you.”

“Huh? Oh, no! This is my job, I’m getting paid for it. You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” Eren put back the book he was holding, walking over to the pile Marco had just abandoned, brushing past Marco as he went. “I don’t have anything else to do, anyway.”

“Thank you so much,” Marco said, giving yet another award-winning smile. That smile - The way he tilted his head and relaxed his face - it was familiar, somehow. Eren frowned in confusion as he picked up the stack of books. Weird stuff.

Marco slipped one book from the several Eren was holding, glancing at the spine to verify before locating its spot on the bookshelf. “You’re a very kind person, Eren.”

This startled him. “Who, me? No, I’m not.”

“I think you are. You major in something because you want to better the world. You hold my books for me when you could very well do something else. Jean says you always help him out when he needs it, and that you try and defend him from situations that could spur his phobia. I think those are all things a kind person does.”

Eren stared at him, frowning. “I feel like - those last things are what anyone would do, though. I feel like you’re the kind one, here.”

“I’m not kind,” Marco replied straightaway. “Just observant.”

Eren looked at the floor. Marco was wrong. He was nice. Really nice. Jean had found himself a good one.

They continued on, shelving books, every so often going back downstairs for another stack(They could have taken a cart, but the building was old enough that it didn’t have any elevators, so that would have been more trouble than it was worth). Eren found he liked talking to Marco. He was compassionate, intelligent, and even funny sometimes. Eren, as the afternoon passed, became more and more distracted from his worries and Jean’s request.

“Maybe you should work here, too,” Marco said at one point. “We’ve gotten so much done - I think we work well together.”

And, for a moment, Eren entertained the idea. More afternoons with Marco. More soothing conversation to drive away his fears. Marco’s presence was a tremendous comfort to him, and the fact that it still reminded him of something was bothering him less and less.

 _Jean likes him_ , he reminded himself. _He’d probably hate me if I started spending all my time with Marco when he’s the one who likes him._

Though it was becoming a big possibility that, maybe possibly probably, Jean wasn’t the only one who was smitten with Marco.

“I’ll think about it,” he lied, coming around the corner of the stairwell, Marco at his side, as they went to retrieve another stack of books to be shelved.

_What kind of jackass leaves their backpack on the stairs, where anyone can trip over it?_

That was Eren’s first thought as he found himself falling through the air, ankle twisting painfully as he went.

His second was,

_I’m falling. Just like Mom._

Intense, searing pain burned through his skull as he hit his forehead on the banister, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I'm having issues making text posts on Tumblr, so the Tumblr link is just another link right back here? So, basically, this is totally pointless, but there it is.  
> http://missplacemat.tumblr.com/post/86446119933/a-dance-for-three-chapter-1-graarplacemat


	2. American Not-So-Smooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But Jean liked him first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something with the English Waltz as this chapter's title. Because, beware, this chapter is slow. Really. Agonizingly. Slow. But I couldn't come up with any good puns.  
> Anyway! For anyone who doesn't know and is too lazy to use Google, manti(which will come up in this chapter) is a Middle Eastern(primarily the countries around Turkey) dish that contains meatballs wrapped in dough swimming in broth! It's best with garlic and yogurt mixed into the broth. The dumplings take approximately forever and a day to make, assuming you make them entirely yourself. There are probably some better dishes I could have mentioned, but this one's always been my personal favorite when my grandpa makes it.  
> I'm sorry for the slowness, but thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy Chapter 2!

There was some soothing, gentle voice speaking in the background when he began to stir. Some soft grip cradling his left hand. Some sweet gust of breath gusting across his forehead when the voice spoke.

In his delirium, he thought it might be his mom. But, no, that wasn’t right - the voice was deeper, more masculine, without an accent, and the hand holding his had callouses in the wrong places. And his mom was dead. She’d been dead eight years.

Another voice came, and this one was immediately recognizable from all those times Eren had fallen asleep listening to this voice gripe or sigh or just jabber on about one thing or another. Jean. His voice was trembling. He sounded like he was going to cry. Or vomit. Or both. And, suddenly, Eren realized why.

The heavy feeling in his right arm was because he was wearing a cast. He knew this because he’d broken a limb or two before. His ankle felt as if it were wrapped in something, too, though less intrusive. That yucky, sticky feeling on his left wrist was a connection for an IV. Eren was in the hospital - or, more likely, the nursing school. And Jean was risking a panic attack by being here with him.

He began shifting, fighting to open his eyes, but they were heavy and Eren wasn’t sure if it was whatever they were putting in him or his head injury that was making it hard to move, though he figured it was a combination of both. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell Jean to go away, somewhere he could relax, Eren would be fine, but all that came out was a drawn-out groan. The gentler voice said something about the nurse, waking up, getting someone, and the pressure on his left hand disappeared and he heard footsteps drawing away from him.

Finally he managed to open his eyes, and somehow just that effort managed to make him dizzy. The light above him was painfully bright and he almost immediately snapped his eyes shut again. He groaned out, “Jean?”

A stammered reply. “Y-yeah?”

“Get outta here.”

“No.”

Scared out of his wits and still not willing to leave. That was Jean, alright.

More footsteps, a new, unfamiliar voice asking, “How long ago did he wake up?”

“Uh, just now, actually - and he wasn’t really awake so much as just… moving.”

“He’s awake now, Marco,” Jean shakily said.

Oh. Marco. Marco was here.

Marco’d held his hand.

Holy shit.

_Pull yourself together, Jaeger,_ he thought to himself.

How could he possibly have thought Marco was his mother? They were nothing… Alike.

Yes, they were, they were exactly the same, they were honest and soothing and -

“Open your eyes,” came a deep-voiced command. Eren was so startled, he did as he was told, and found himself looking up at a rather intimidating gentleman, face framed by a dark gray beard and eyes surrounded by frown lines. He’d seen this guy at orientation - Doctor Zackley, the head of the university’s medical school. He was even scarier up close.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” he ordered.

“Um,” Eren stalled, assessing his state of being. “Tired. And heavy. My head hurts, and the light’s looking too bright.”

“Concussion,” Zackley muttered. He tapped Eren’s leg. “Can you feel this?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you sit up?”

He forced himself upward, squeezing his eyes shut as dizziness hit him. “Kinda.”

“Keep sitting up. Tell me about your family.”

“My sister’s name is Mikasa. She’s adopted. Well, we’re both adopted. Our dad is Hannes. Mikasa goes to school in Massachusetts. I’ve got a friend, Armin, who’s like a brother to me.”

“Any pets?”

“Yeah. A dog. Samoyed. Named Sammy.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

“That one.” Eren indicated Jean.

“How did you meet?”

“At orientation. We were with our parents.”

“And how did you meet Marco?”

“He plays piano at our balls.”

“Are you feeling any less dizzy now?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you put your legs over the edge of the bed for me?”

Eren complied. Zackley took the end of his stethoscope and tapped Eren’s knee with it. No response. He tried the other side. Same result.

“Have you always lacked reflexes?”

“Uh, no. This is new.”

“Please stand up.”

He did, and immediately had to sit down again - and not even because of his ankle. Zackley’s brow furrowed. Eren, determined to be healthy, tried again, walking a few steps before realizing that he was falling over. Marco and Jean both rushed to catch him and, before he knew it, he was lying down in bed again. Zackley looked displeased.

“You’ll have to stay here for a couple days.”

“No,” Eren’s reply was automatic. “No, I can’t do that, finals are coming -”

“Today is Thursday. If you rest tomorrow and through the weekend, your symptoms will likely get better by Monday. That is,” Zackley narrowed his eyes, “If you comply with my instructions and don’t move around too much. If not, they could last longer. I advise that you behave now rather than later.”

Eren sighed deeply. Great. He hated staying still. He gestured his left hand weakly. “Can I at least get this thing off?”

“Those are only fluids. The only purpose behind it is to hydrate you without causing you to vomit. We’d prefer to keep you on them.”

“Oh.” Eren glanced at Jean, who was visibly becoming more relaxed with this information having been shared. “Okay.”

Zackley nodded. “If you haven’t any more questions, I’ll be taking my leave.” Eren shook his head. Within moments, the doctor was gone.

Eren turned his head to Marco and Jean. “Hi.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Marco gushed, suddenly. “I was so scared when you fell. Your arm - it just - it looked wrong, and you were kinda moaning, and it must have hurt so bad… Uh, does it still?”

Eren lifted his right arm, waggled it around as much as the cast, which went from his wrist to above his elbow, would allow. “Not really. The cast is a little annoying, though. When did you get here, Jean?”

“I was trying to call you to see if you wanted me to get you something to eat. Marco picked up and told me you were here. I did bring food, but Dr. Zackley said you might be nauseous.”

Eren pursed his lips. “I am. Thanks anyway.”

“Yeah.” Jean’s eyes flitted to the IV again - only for a moment, but Eren noticed.

“If it still bothers you, you can leave. It’s okay, I understand. You can’t help it.”

Jean shifted, glanced at Marco, the IV, and then Eren. He sucked his lower lip. Then he stood up. “Thanks, Eren.”

“Thank _you_ , Jean. For showing up. I know these places are hard for you.”

Jean gave him a weak smile. He then turned to Marco. “Uh. Bye.”

Marco did that beautiful smiling thing at Jean. At Jean. _Nope, no, stop, I’m not allowed to be jealous, he liked him first_. “Have a good evening, Jean.”

“Okay. You, too.” Jean glanced twitchily around the room once more before making a quick exit. Eren realized, abruptly, that he and Marco were alone now. Shit.

“You… You don’t have to stay, either. I’m just going to be lying here.”

“It’s alright. It’s not much fun being alone in a place like this.”

Eren looked at the clock. It was six-thirty. The last time he’d looked at the clock before falling, it had been five-fifteen. It hadn’t been nearly as long as he felt like it had.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“No, my shift ended at six. Annie let me off early so I could keep an eye on you.”

Marco had wanted to keep an eye on him. It was almost painful to remind himself that Marco was just a good person who would do the same for anyone else.

“Eren?”

Shit, it sounded good when Marco said his name. He turned his head, keeping it on the pillow. “Yeah?”

“What’s that around your neck? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh.” Eren reached up with his left hand to trace his fingers over the chain around his neck before pulling out the pendant - a simple but lovely wind-up key. “It’s the key for my mom’s old music box. It’s one of those really ancient ones - Her parents were Turkish and they brought it here from their home. I left it with Hannes.”

Marco blinked gently, a soft, understanding look in his eyes. “It must mean a lot to you.”

Eren let the key drop to his chest. He didn’t much like talking about his birth parents. “Yeah. I guess.”

Marco seemed to sense his reluctance and didn’t push him to talk about it. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Then Marco slapped his forehead. “Oh, I nearly forgot! You didn’t leave anything in the library, did you? It’s still open, I can go get your stuff, if you need.”

“Oh, don’t bother. I can… Oh. No, I can’t do that, can I?”

Marco chortled a little. It must have been the only thing in the world that could top his own smile. “What is it? What do you need?”

“Um - my backpack. But it’s okay, like, just wait till your next shift and drop it off. There’s no need to go there now.”

“I can do it. It’ll only be about half an hour before I’m back - is that okay?”

Eren’s mouth curled in an involuntary smile. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

“Haven’t we already had this conversation? I’m not nice. I’d do this for any of my friends.”

Eren blinked hesitantly. “Are we friends?”

“Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I have no clue. I guess I figured you were just doing your duty coming here with me.”

“I’m not a nurse. This isn’t my duty.”

“Well, I realize that now,” Eren deadpanned. Inside, however, his heart was soaring, despite his internal reminders to himself that no, no, no, he wasn’t allowed to feel this way, what the fuck was wrong with him.

Marco just grinned and stood up, waving his hand just slightly. “Well, I’ll be back soon. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Aren’t concussion cases not supposed to sleep? I don’t get this setup.”

Marco shrugged. “Well, he told you to rest, so…”

“Maybe, since I already passed out and woke up, I’m okay?”

“That might be it. I could ask before I leave, if you’re curious.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Okay. See you!”

“See you.”

And Marco walked out the door. Eren resisted the urge to look at his butt as he went.

So. He was going to be stuck in the nursing school for the next couple days, at least. He had finals coming up. Dance rehearsals were intensifying, and it was going to be hard to do things properly with his arm in a cast. He was developing feelings for someone he was absolutely _not_ allowed to develop feelings for.

He covered his face with his left forearm. Great. Fucking excellent. Really. It was like his conversation with Marco in the library was a million years ago, in a magical time where people’s problems could just dissolve away, like morning mist in sunlight.

He really was bone-tired. But he wanted to stay awake. He wanted to see Marco again…

His cast was starting to get really annoying, but on the bright side, Eren could now stand up for more than two seconds at a time. That had to be some kind of accomplishment.

His IV was also gone, which meant that Jean could visit with some semblance of comfort. It was Saturday, and he’d sat with Eren almost the entire day. Zackley had told them that if his improvement kept up, Eren would definitely be out of there by Monday.

This was good; Two days in, Eren was already getting stir-crazy. He’d spent some time on his laptop, but staring at the computer screen gave him headaches and he always had to lie back down afterward. When he didn’t feel like sleeping, he had little choice but to stare idly at the ceiling. If not for Marco and Jean, he might have just lost it.

Speaking of Marco.

While Jean had texted him at regular intervals throughout the day(and it had been a trial typing his responses, he wasn’t afraid to say) on Friday, Marco had actually stopped by - multiple times. The first was on his way to his first class of the day, the second his lunch break(and he’d eaten by Eren’s bedside. He’d offered to share, but Eren still wasn’t feeling up to most foods), the third just before rehearsal. This, most unfortunately, was getting Eren more and more optimistic - which he repeatedly admonished himself for, to no avail. Marco was becoming a permanent fixture in his life, it seemed, and it was becoming exponentially harder to squash his crush down inside of him.

Now that Jean was there with them, though, it was a little easier. Seeing Jean, no longer distracted by any part of Eren’s treatment, tripping over his tongue and generally being so obviously, blissfully enamored of Marco reminded Eren of his mission - to help Jean get with Marco. He’d liked him first, after all; this was the most fair course of action.

“Bertholdt’s coming later, by the way,” Jean told him. “He says he’ll show you his notes from that class you have together.”

“Oh - that’s great! Did he say when?”

“Um, no. But I think he said he was bringing Annie, so probably after she’s done with her shift.” Jean took this opportunity to glance at Marco. “Uh… Do you know when that might be?”

“I don’t, unfortunately. Sorry.”

“No, no, that’s - that’s okay, really, I should have asked myself.”

“I could always just text him,” Eren put in, reaching for his phone. Marco picked it up for him so he wouldn’t have to lean too far to reach the table next to his bed. “Thanks, Marco.”

“Not a problem.” He glanced at the clock. “I think I need to go. I’m practicing with my friend - well, you know her, don’t you, you’re in Hello, Dolly, too. Uh, Hannah. She asked me to play the piano so she could practice her singing part. We’re meeting at three.”

“Thanks for coming,” Eren said. In a burst of inspiration, he added, “Want Jean to escort you out?” Jean’s face flushed.

“That’s alright! I know the way. Have a good day, guys!”

Eren watched Jean watching Marco’s ass, the very same ass he’d been trying to ignore for so long. He couldn’t help feeling a little resentful about the situation. The moment that feeling took form, however, he shook it off. None of that. He was the interloper. He had no right to be feeling envious of Jean.

“God,” his roommate muttered once Marco was out of earshot. “He’s so… fantastic. He’s so amazing.”

“He’s pretty great,” Eren conceded. He wanted to add so much more - but he restrained himself. This was Jean. If there was anyone who wasn't allowed to know about his growing crush, it was him.

“Have you noticed his dimples? When he smiles? I hadn’t even realized they were there until just now. God, he is too cute.”

“Yeah. Dimples.” Eren had noticed them yesterday in the library, around the millionth time Marco’d smiled at him. No big deal or anything. He’d just seen them first.

_Stop it. Stop it, stop, stop_. This was getting out of control, and he knew it. He needed to talk to someone about this; keeping his crush and his resentment bottled up weren’t going to do him any good. He’d call Armin; Armin could help. But first - he’d have to get Jean out of there.

“Jean?”

Jean cut off in the middle of his own monologue, proclaiming Marco’s beauty in a million different ways. “Yeah?”

“I’m feeling a lot less nauseous today. Do you think you could get me some decent food to eat?”

“No problem, dude. What are you in the mood for?”

Eren considered this carefully. “I wanna say Chipotle, but that’s probably pretty ambitious, huh?”

“Yeah, better go for something a bit more low-key. Um… Noodles? Jimmy John’s? Those are both pretty heavy, too.”

“Well, not as much as Chipotle, I don’t think. Tell you what, just get whatever you want and get me something that looks decent. Do you need money?”

“No, I’m set for now.”

“You sure?”

“Dude,” Jean chuckled, “Relax. You don’t have to do everything for me all the time, okay? In fact, do me a favor. Let me treat you.”

_You say that like I’m not the worst friend in the universe,_ Eren was thinking. _You say that like I’m not being totally selfish and trying to get rid of you so I can sort out my feelings._

Jean did something weird, then. He reached forward, touching Eren’s forehead, brushing his hair back. It was such a sweet, delicate touch, so unexpected from Jean, of all people, that Eren found himself relaxing, only realizing then how tense he’d been.

“You don’t have to turn everything into a sacrifice, dude,” Jean said, about two seconds before he realized what he was doing. His hand jerked back. “Uh… Whoops, that was…” The hand that he’d just run through Eren’s hair jolted up to his own head, fiddling with his own fringe. “Sorry, that was weird.”

Eren stared at him. “It really was, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll just - I’ll just, uh, get food. Yeah, um - food.”

“Thanks,” Eren mumbled as Jean snatched up his wallet and dashed out the door. He then picked his phone up from beside him and texted Armin.

**Eren: Can I talk to you?**

Barely a minute passed before he received his answer.

**Armin: What’s the matter?**

**Eren: … It’s hard to explain.**

**Armin: Want to Skype?**

**Eren: Sure. Let me get my computer on.**

He pulled his laptop onto his lap, typing in his password and pulling open the Skype app. Armin was already online and Eren immediately called him.

When Armin saw him, his eyes widened. _“Eren! You’ve got bandages everywhere! Is that a hospital?!”_

Shit. He’d forgotten to tell Armin about his accident. Mikasa and Hannes, being his listed family, already knew, of course, but he hadn’t contacted Armin since it had happened.

“Yeah. I fell down some stairs.”

_“Oh my - Eren! You promised me you wouldn’t get in any trouble!”_

“Nobody _pushed_ me! Have a little faith, Armin, jesus!”

Armin frowned, putting things together. “ _How many days have you been there?”_

“Uh… Two.”

_“You’ve been in the hospital two days, and you didn’t think to tell me in all that time?”_

“I figured Mikasa would.”

_“Well, she didn’t.”_

“Look, Armin - this isn’t what I was calling about.”

_“I figured as much.”_

“I need,” Eren sighed, “I need your help. Like, major.”

_“Do tell.”_

Eren heard footsteps passing his room outside. “My roommate - Uh, Jean, I did introduce you, right?”

_“That one everybody thinks you’re in a relationship with.”_

“Okay, I know for a _fact_ that I never told you that.”

_“I do have a Facebook, Eren.”_

“Oh.”

_“Go on.”_

“Well,” Eren started. This was hard. “He likes this guy. But - the thing is, I’ve been helping him, you know? Because he’s awkward as hell. But… I’ve been getting to know the guy, the crush guy, and…”

Armin fixed him with a deadpan stare. _“You sound like a middle schooler.”_

“What?!”

_“Oh, fine, finish the story. Or should I finish it for you? You like the guy your roommate likes and now you’re having a big crisis over which of you should get the boy. There.”_

“You’re being awfully snippy.”

_“You didn’t think getting - is that a broken arm? And some kind of head damage, it looks like - was important enough to call me about, but you DO call me about a freaking love triangle.”_

Eren heard more hurried footsteps outside. “My arm’s broken, and my ankle's sprained. I also have a moderate concussion.”

_“You have a fucking concussion, and you didn’t even bother telling me.”_

“Well,” Eren shrugged, “Think about it. Concussion patients can’t think straight. You can’t even blame me for this one.”

If looks could kill, Eren would probably be cremated by that point. _“I hate how that sentence made sense.”_

“Wow, I must be improving.”

_“Stop.”_

Eren pursed his lips. “Could you help me? Please?”

_“What is there to say?”_

“Tell me how to stop liking someone.”

Armin had a pained look on his face. _“Do you really feel like you need to stop? Why can’t you just… you know, let yourself be happy with this guy? Or at least follow the principles of natural selection. Go after him. If he chooses your roommate, tough luck, you’ll find someone new. If he chooses you, the same applies for him. The roommate,_ _that  is.”_

Eren frowned. “But Jean liked him first.”

_“Eren. For once, think of yourself first. Please. Don’t downplay things for other people’s sake. Don’t be the guy who doesn’t bother calling people when he falls down a flight of stairs, just because he doesn’t think it’s a big deal when he gets hurt.”_

Eren was looking downward. “I don’t think I can do that, Armin. I can’t go after Marco without feeling like I’m cheating Jean. I just can’t.”

Armin gave him one last stare, followed by a deep sigh. _“Well. I guess I should know firsthand that this isn’t easy stuff. Just… Give it a try, okay? Just once. Promise me you’ll put yourself first in all this, if only for a minute. Promise me.”_

Eren lifted his eyes to look at Armin again. Bit his lip. “Okay.”

_“You’ll do it?”_

“Yeah.”

_“You swear?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Okay.”_ Armin sighed. _“That was heavy. Tell me about everything else for a while.”_

“Um, that’ll probably be pretty heavy, too. Why don’t you tell me about what’s going on with you? How’s Sina? Still living up to its reputation?”

_“Oh, yes,”_ Armin breathed, and the two spent the next half hour discussing Armin’s experience thus far at the country’s ninth-best-ranked university. Eventually, Eren heard a final set of footsteps outside the room before Jean came in, carrying a paper bag of what he assumed was his dinner.

“Hey, Jean! I’m talking to Armin - remember him?”

“Hey, Armin,” Jean called, leaning over to look at Armin on the screen. “Oh, hey, there’s my phone. I thought I’d left it somewhere.” He grabbed it off the table next to Eren’s bed and tucked it in his pocket. “Anyway, Eren, remember that Armenian market you said reminded you of your mom’s cooking? I saw they had manti today, and I know how much you like manti.”

“Shit, dude, you got me _manti?!_ ” Eren replied excitedly. When Jean held out the cup and a plastic spoon, he automatically grabbed for them.

“Chill, man, you’re gonna spill it.”

“It’s got a lid, I’m fine.”

“But it was lucky, god. I got the last two cups.”

“I’m surprised they even had it this late in the day. They must have made a lot. That must have taken them a couple nights.”

_“Well,”_ Armin piped up, _“I’ve got some stuff to do, so I’ll be going. Call me if you fall down any more stairwells.”_

“Will do. Bye.”

Eren shut his laptop and pushed it to one side, sitting up to carefully open his cup. It already had yogurt in it and everything. Scooping up one little dumpling with his spoon, he blew lightly before taking a bite. It was every bit as amazing as he’d anticipated.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Manti is life. I want manti for every meal.”

“This shit is pretty good, I gotta agree with you on that one.”

“I love how these guys form the little boats,” Eren sighed. “It looks just like how my mom used to do it - wrapping the dough around the meat, like little candies.”

He smiled into his cup. He then looked up to see how Jean was liking his.

The other cup sat unopened in his roommate’s lap. Jean was looking at him.

Eren blinked. “Something wrong?”

Jean inhaled slowly, exhaled slower. Then he said, “I got you a snickerdoodle, too.”

“Wow, manti and snickerdoodles. Are you buttering me up for something?”

Jean leaned on the armrest, cupping his chin in one hand. “No. I just felt like being nice, I guess.”

Something was weird. Jean was being weird. Eren wanted to ask why. He wanted to. But he didn’t - Normally, if Jean wanted Eren to know something, or wanted help, he’d tell him when he was ready. Eren would just have to wait for it to come out.

It didn’t, though. Not when Jean finally started eating, not when Bertholdt finally showed up, Annie and Reiner both in tow, not when visiting hours finally ended and Jean said, just before drifting out the door,

“Um. Marco’s been having trouble with his dance numbers. I - I told him we could help him out, if he wanted. Once you’re mobile again, I mean.”

Eren lifted an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you rather do that yourself?”

Jean frowned. Stared at the floor. Replied simply,

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the Tumblr link when it's up!


	3. The Tarantella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco still remembered the first time he’d glanced up from the piano and seen Eren and Jean dancing. Their movements had been so fluid and graceful as they carved their way into the tune that was playing, he’d found that he was jealous.
> 
> I wish someone would dance with me like that, he’d thought, watching Eren and Jean stare at each other in delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really stop telling people that I'm going to update things by any specific time, because it never gets updated by that time. Sorry.

Sometimes, people would ask why he danced with Jean.

Eren would smile, nonchalantly shrugging, sometimes even letting out a laugh. _I have no idea,_ he would say.

Jean came back the next day, bringing Connie and Sasha with him. Eren supposed he could wait until they were gone to ask what the flying fuck Jean was trying to accomplish inviting Eren along to help Marco out, seeing as how Jean had left immediately last night and hadn’t answered any of his texts since, but his roommate left before they did. If it hadn’t been for Christa showing up the moment he was out the door, Eren might just have taken off after him - but, no, he had to be good, he was getting out tomorrow.

So he stayed in bed all through Sunday, and when Jean still wouldn’t answer his attempts at communication, Eren enlisted Connie’s help in getting himself home the next day. It was nice, with all the visitors he had now, really, but he was stuck wondering what the hell Jean was playing at. This was weird; they didn’t keep secrets from one another. Probably because they both just sucked at hiding things, but still - this wasn’t natural for the two of them.

 _Maybe it’s payback for me not telling him I like Marco_ , Eren thought to himself. Though, really, how much opportunity had he had to do so in the last few days? The day he’d figured out his feelings, he’d ended up in the hospital. He hadn’t seen Jean all the next day…

Okay, really, he could have told him yesterday. He gave himself the excuse that he wasn’t really completely in touch with his feelings yet - he was still sort of in the “ _oh fuck no this can’t be happening_ ” stage. How long he could realistically drag that out, though, was another question altogether.

Marco did come in, later in the day, and for the first time ever, he seemed truly, deeply upset.

“I just had dance rehearsal,” he mumbled into his hands, “The director yelled at me after Get On Your Sunday Clothes and then I messed up in Dancing, too. I’m… really bad at dancing. I just pick things up really slowly and then I don’t remember them…”

Eren felt his heart twist. A sad Marco, though he was willing to admit the way Marco displayed his anguish was actually kind of adorable, was not what he wanted. What he wanted was Marco’s beautiful smile - but he wasn’t good at helping people cheer up.

Well, he would give it the old college try, at least.

“You know,” he began, “In high school, the couple times I got lead roles, I had the same problem. Except with singing - like, I always needed to be given my note to start, and I couldn’t harmonize to save my life.”

“Really? How’d you get past that?”

“I practiced with people who knew it better than I did. Like, all the time. And when they weren’t around, I kept singing until I just couldn’t sing anymore. And my director liked that even less than when I was singing wrong.”

Marco’s mouth curled into a smile. A breath of air that might have been the beginning of a laugh escaped his lips. “Well, I don’t know if Jean told you, but I guess you guys are gonna help me out.”

“Yeah,” Eren answered, Jean’s name tugging uncomfortably on his brain, “I know.”

“What sorts of roles have you played?”

“Oh, well in freshman and sophomore year, I was just in chorus parts, like right now. Then I got LeFou in Beauty and the Beast, and senior year I was Houdini in Ragtime.”

“Your high school did _Ragtime_?!”

“Well, yeah. We had the diversity for it.” His eyebrows scrunched together. “I guess the subject matter _was_ a little heavy for a high school show, though.”

“It’s really cool that you did Houdini. How did you do all the tricks?”

Eren burst out laughing. “With difficulty. I can still escape handcuffs, if you have a pair.”

“I don’t,” Marco giggled. “Though they might come in handy someday, I suppose.”

Eren looked at him. Marco’s face flushed.

“That’s… not what I meant.”

“I figured.”

At six a.m. the next day, Eren got his reflexes checked again. They were definitely back, as the nurse’s bloody nose could attest. He then walked all the way down the hall and back in a completely straight line, though he did limp a little thanks to his bad ankle(which, Zackley assured him, could probably do with some walking off). His memories and sensations were checked once more(and they were both still fine) before Dr. Zackley finally told him, “You’re free to go. Do bring someone with you on the way to your dorm, though, and try not to walk anywhere alone for the next couple days in case you suddenly get dizzy.”

Connie, who had been draped, snoring, over one of the chairs in Eren’s room since testing began, roused slowly, and once he was fully awake, he and Eren quickly made tracks.

“You sure you can carry your backpack by yourself?” Connie inquired as they crossed the campus. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?”

“It’s just a backpack,” Eren replied, brushing Connie’s question off. “I’ll be fine.” In fact, his ankle was heavily protesting the extra weight - but Eren would just have to bear through it. It was already enough that he’d had to ask Connie to take him home.

Another minute or two passed before Connie piped up again. “So,” he began, “Don’t take this the wrong way… I mean, I’m perfectly happy doing this for you, but… Why isn’t Jean here? Like, why didn’t you ask him to do this?”

Eren heaved a deep sigh. “I… I don’t know if I can tell you.”

Connie glanced at him. “He didn’t, like, do something, right? Like, the friend group’s weird wet dreams didn’t come true, did they?”

Eren managed a grin. “No, Connie, he hasn’t made a move on me.”

“Oh, thank god. If that happened, they’d probably start expecting things from me and Sasha, too.”

“Don’t worry, man. Jean and I won’t betray you.”

They’d come to Eren’s dorm building, a sprawling thing called Trost. Eren turned to Connie. “You can probably just leave me here, if you want. It’s not much trouble just getting up the stairs.”

“Isn’t there an elevator?”

Eren bit his lip, knowing what was coming. “No.”

“Then I’m coming with you, man.”

“Okay. Thanks, Connie.”

“No problem. And give me your backpack - for the way up, at least.”

“Oh, fine.”

As they made their way up the stairs - Eren barely straining through the last few steps on his bad ankle - their conversation reached a pause. It was only when they reached Eren’s door that Connie said something.

“Hey,” he muttered, pointing to the whiteboard, “that’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, Jean always changes my name when he has the opportunity,” Eren said, struggling to lift his backpack to one shoulder without the use of his stronger right arm. “Keeps spelling it wrong. It’s just a dumb joke between the two of us.”

“No, I knew that. But isn’t it spelled right, now?”

Eren looked up. Sure enough, the whiteboard spelled out “Jean and Eren”, both words clearly written in Jean’s slanting handwriting.

“That’s… weird…”

The ‘Eren’, it appeared, was relatively fresh - like Jean, at some point, had indeed changed it to ‘Aaron’ and then later had changed his mind. Eren looked at Connie, who was already staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sure Jean hasn’t got the hots for you?”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Yes. He probably - he was probably just feeling like being nice. Because I got hurt and all.”

“Okay,” Connie sighed. “Well. I’m gonna go try to get some sleep before my first class. You gonna meet us for lunch today?”

“Sure thing. See you.”

“Bye.”

Eren watched Connie walking down the hall for a bit before turning back to the door. Because it felt wrong just doing nothing about it, Eren reached up, erased Jean’s handwriting, and rewrote ‘Eren’ in his own.

Marco still remembered the first time he’d glanced up from the piano and seen Eren and Jean dancing. Their movements had been so fluid and graceful as they carved their way into the tune that was playing, he’d found that he was jealous.

 _I wish someone would dance with me like that,_ he’d thought, watching Eren and Jean stare at each other in delight.

Eren finally caught sight of a conscious Jean as he approached the dining hall alongside Bertholdt after another class the two happened to have together(Bertholdt was majoring in Biology. The elementary courses for that and Environmental Science had similar enough themes that some classes were held together). He was across the courtyard, reading as he walked, despite the millions of times Eren had told him he really shouldn’t do that.

“Oh, hey, can you hold on a second?” he asked Bertholdt, getting a quizzical ‘Yes’ in return. He left the larger boy, who was carrying both his and Eren’s backpacks at his own insistence, and jogged up to Jean as fast as his ankle would comfortably allow.

“Jean!” he called as he approached, dodging people going the opposite direction. “Hey!”

His roommate looked up, did an outrageously comedic double take, paused for a moment, and then dashed in the other direction.

Eren stared, scandalized, as Jean sprinted away. What. The. Fuck.

Screw it, he decided. I need to know what the hell is going on with this guy.

Disregarding any complaints his ankle gave him, he launched himself after Jean. In his initial burst of speed, he managed to narrow the gap between Jean and him a little - helped along when Jean momentarily slowed down, seeming to believe Eren wouldn’t pursue him, and absolutely not helped when he glanced back, saw that, in fact, Eren had come after him, and redoubled his efforts to get away. Eren found, then, that he was losing ground, and fast. He had to think quickly, had to come up with some way to get Jean to come to him.

He collapsed to the ground.

“Fuck,” he shouted, clutching his ankle, ejecting various expletives loud enough for Jean to hear. “God fucking damn.”

He heard footsteps coming back toward him, a voice babbling, “Oh, god, your ankle, oh my god - I’m so sorry, I should’ve thought -”

Yes, his ankle was in pain. But he could deal with that. He continued feigning agony until Jean was - closer, closer, come on, yes - close enough that he could reach up, fist one hand in Jean’s sweater, and pull him down to his level.

“Hey, fucker,” Eren greeted him.

Amber eyes widened in disbelief as Jean realized he’d been played. “Oh, that is dirty, Eren. You fucking cheater.”

“It worked, didn’t it? And it’s not like I was lying. Just exaggerating a little.”

“You’ll be okay, right? It doesn’t hurt too bad?”

“No,” Eren shook his head. “But, dude, why did I have to do that just to get you to talk to me? Why are you being so weird, all of a sudden? Did I do something? And what’s the whole thing with Marco?”

Jean looked at him for a long moment. He exhaled slowly. “Would you be willing to accept, ‘I don’t feel ready to tell you that right now’?” he asked cautiously.

Eren rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Yes, you idiot, yes. You should have just said that in the first place, Jean. I wouldn’t have bothered you about it if you’d said that. Well, I wouldn’t have bothered you anyway, but you not answering freaked me out. I was worried about you, dude. I thought you were mad at me or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eren chastised, relieved in the oddest of ways. “Just don’t pull that on me again.”

Jean did that looking at him thing again. He was doing that a lot lately. Like he was studying him. This time, though, he had this little, helpless smile on his lips. “Thanks, Eren. I don’t know what my issue was, honestly. I won’t do that anymore.”

“Good.” Eren began to get up. “Were you going for lunch?”

“Uh, no, I was - shit, what’s wrong?”

Eren clung to Jean’s front, swaying unsteadily, face scrunched in pain. “Ankle hurts more than I thought it did,” he gasped.

“Fuck - do you need to go in?”

“Hell no. They’d kill me if they knew I was roughing it this much on my first day out of treatment.”

Jean hesitated for a moment. “Hang on,” he muttered, stepping back from Eren. Before he could complain, Eren saw that he was crouching in front of him. “Come on. I’ll carry you. Piggyback ride.”

Eren laughed a little through the pain. “Sure you can handle that?”

“I can sure as hell try.”

Eren clambered awkwardly onto Jean’s back, trying not to knock him with his cast as he did so. Once they were situated, Jean shakily stood. “Just the dining hall, right?” he grunted, “I th-think I can get you that far.”

“Don’t force yourself if you can’t do it,” Eren said as Jean started moving. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“If I got hurt doing something for you,” Jean panted, and didn’t continue. Eren assumed it was because he was out of breath. It was okay - the sentence probably ended with something about making Eren suffer.

Bertholdt caught sight of them when they entered the courtyard from where he was sitting on the steps with Ymir, a sophomore who he’d met because she was lab assistant for his Biology labs. When he saw what was going on, he got up and loped over to them.

“What’s going on?” he asked, frowning worriedly, “I saw you two running - Oh, here, let me carry him, you look like you’re going to fall -”

“I g-got him,” Jean choked out, though he very clearly didn’t. Eren touched down before they both fell over, hopping on one foot to see how Jean was doing.

“Shit, dude, if that was too much -”

“It wasn’t. C-come on, I’ll get you to the door.”

“Let’s not do that, Bert’s here, he’ll help me. Just go do whatever you were doing, okay? Thanks for talking to me, finally.”

Ymir had joined them. “You look like shit,” she commented with her characteristic lack of delicacy. Eren wasn’t sure who it was directed at, though he supposed it could be both of them.

Ignoring her, Jean said, “Changed my mind. I’m coming to lunch with you.”

“What… What happened, exactly?” Bertholdt inquired. This, too, was ignored.

“You don’t have to,” Eren replied, “I’m sure whatever you had planned -”

“It was bullshit. It was an excuse not to see you, okay? Shut up, I’m coming.”

“You dropped this when you ran away,” Bertholdt muttered uselessly, holding up Jean’s book.

Ymir patted him on the back, smirking. “You try so hard, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“Are you lovebirds gonna stop being nuts for each other, or what?”

This finally popped Eren and Jean’s bubble. “We’re not together, Ymir,” Eren reminded her, frowning sternly.

“Yeah,” Jean added, looking at Eren in the corner of his eye, “I-I mean, no. We’re not gothether - together, shit, what even is a gothether -”

Ymir just snickered at him, Eren and Bertholdt joining in. Jean grinned humiliatedly.

As they approached the dining hall together, Bertholdt and Jean both supporting Eren as he walked, Jean mumbled into Eren’s ear, “Our first Marco thing is tonight.”

The choreographer took a few minutes to demonstrate Marco’s Dancing and Elegance parts for Eren and Jean(His significant dancing bits in Put On Your Sunday Clothes were the same as for the chorus, so they already knew those) before returning to the chorus rehearsal she was supervising. “If you have any questions,” she said, “Don’t bother me. You guys are good enough that as long as he’s dancing something decently and it fits with the music and what everyone else is doing, I don’t care.”

Marco, however, was proving to have two left feet. “Marco, no, you plie -” Jean began, before Eren cut in, “Plie. Plie. Dammit, you bend your fucking knees, it’s not that hard.”

Marco bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Eren exhaled sharply. “No, it’s okay, I was getting snappy. You’re getting better, I can tell, and you just - there’s just a few little bits that you’re just not getting.”

“Yeah,” Marco sighed. “I know.”

“Tell you what - Elegance is the most difficult one, really, if we finish this tonight, we can spend the rest doing Dancing. Okay? Dancing is easy. It’s just embellished waltzing.”

“Okay,” Marco gave him an uneasy smile.

“I like that plan,” Jean agreed, “Okay, Marco, if you can just get this one step, the whole thing will be a lot easier. Keep doing that step, do it like, ten times. Eren and I can watch - or do you want us to do it with you?”

“Can you do it with me?” Marco asked. He gave them a terrified stare. Eren fought the urge to smile. God, Marco was too cute.

“Sure.” Eren stepped up to Marco’s side, reaching behind him to put his arm around his shoulder, Marco following suit for him, and Jean did the same on his other side. “Okay, you’ve got this. Five, six, seven, eight - plie, up, releve, kick, plie, up, releve, kick - other leg, Marco, we alternate - plie, up, releve, kick…”

“That was good, Marco,” Jean commented once they’d run it through, unhooking himself from the line. “You just have to speed it up, make it bouncier, and be able to do it alone. But it’s better, you’re getting better.”

“What you really need is more confidence,” Eren reminded him. “If you’re confident in what you do, the audience won’t notice if you mess things up. Either that, or they’ll think it was on purpose.”

“Yeah,” Marco sighed. “Yeah.”

“You look like you’ve heard this all before,” Eren said.

“Well… I have. Like, in terms of acting, too, back when I was still learning that.”

“And now, your acting is great!” Jean told him. “You’re gonna be okay. Just keep practicing. Well, not now, let’s take a break.”

“Yeah, we could all use one,” Eren agreed, wiping sweat from his brow. He glanced back at Marco, who was still looking dejected. “Hey,” he said gently, “Really, you’re getting a lot better. You’re gonna be so good by the time Jean and I are done with you, right, Jean?” He glanced at where Jean had been for support before realizing Jean was absent.

Marco laughed a little. “Yeah. I know. You guys are really good. Thanks for this, by the way.”

“No problem,” Eren replied. He and Marco were alone. He was alone with Marco. “Uh - did you see where Jean went?”

“Probably the bathroom,” Marco said. “Do you need to go?”

“Um. No. Er, yes. Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay! I’ll be here.”

Eren nodded awkwardly before leaving the room they’d picked for their private rehearsal. Once he was out, he exhaled, long and slow. God. Marco was overwhelming. He was…

“Hey, Eren,” Jean called.

Fuck.

Fuck, he was caught, red-handed, leaning on the wall outside their room, thinking about Marco and how much he liked him. If Jean didn’t smell a rat, it would be a miracle.

Eren looked up at Jean, who was coming down the hall from the direction of the drinking fountain. “Hey, Jean.”

Jean gave him a sympathetic, if a little awkward, smile. “He’s a little frustrating, isn’t he? At least he’s nice. Come back in soon, okay?”

And then he was gone.

Well, it was official. Eren believed in miracles.

He gave himself another minute, contemplating Jean, contemplating Marco, before he went back in. Frustrating, but nice. Not a single thing testifying Marco’s beauty, not a single lovestruck sigh. He’d only said that Marco was frustrating, but nice.

That was different. He supposed it was true - regardless of how cute Marco was about it, his incompetency was a little peeving. But… Even then, Eren had noticed countless little things about Marco during their time dancing, had felt so flustered with Marco’s arm on his shoulder, had found it so hot seeing sweat drip down Marco’s temple. These were all things Jean would gush about on any normal day.

Well, it had been pretty annoying listening to him spew poetry about Marco willy-nilly. Maybe he’d just gotten himself some better control.

Before he could overthink it, Eren turned and walked in the door. Marco looked up from where he was talking to Jean. “Eren! I forgot to ask earlier - how are your injuries doing?”

“Oh,” Eren replied. “Well, my head’s doing better than I thought it would. I think moving around’s doing me good. And my arm’s, well, useless, but at least it’s not giving me grief. My ankle was pretty bad earlier because Jean was being dumb -”

“Hey!”

“- but I stayed off it all afternoon and it feels a lot better now.”

“That’s good to know,” Marco said, smiling. “I was wondering, because that move we were working on was pretty rough on our feet. You didn’t seem to notice, though.”

“Oh, it hurt a little bit. Nothing major.”

“Well,” Jean cut in, “It’s about time we got back to work. How do you feel about waltzing, Marco?”

“I don’t know how,” Marco admitted. “The choreographer assumed we all did, and I just tried matching what my partner did.”

“Then let’s start just doing that. We only have half an hour left, so if we can get you waltzing smoothly, we’ll call it a night. Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re good at waltzing on both sides. Wanna teach him?”

This was astonishing. With a slow, romantic dance like the waltz, Eren had expected Jean to jump in and declare himself Marco’s partner; for a brief moment, Eren wondered whether Jean was feeling quite alright. But, no, Jean was looking into his eyes steadily - the look of a person who knew exactly what he was doing.

Well, he couldn’t deny how much he’d love to waltz with Marco. “Sure,” he said hesitantly, still not sure whether this was some dream or joke or fluke, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “Come here, Marco.”

Marco complied, coming to stand in front of Eren. Eren posed himself next to Marco. “Okay, first I’ll show you how the - the man dances, and then we can dance together. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“So, we’ll start with the box step. Step forward with your left foot.” He demonstrated as he spoke, “Then swing your right foot forward and to the side. Follow with your left.”

So far, so good. “Now, the reverse. Step back with your right. Left foot, back and to the side. Right follows. Now, repeat.”

Marco and Eren, side by side, did the box step together a couple more times. “This is easy,” Marco remarked, surprised, still going and not faltering even when he spoke.

“It’s a good dance for beginners. Now let’s do it together, okay? And try not to look at my feet anymore. You’ll get less confused that way, since I’ll be following you.” Eren turned his body, placing his left hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Now, put your hand on my waist,” he instructed, heart beating fast and hard. “And hold my - well, my cast, I guess.”

Marco chuckled a bit, wrapping a careful hand around Eren’s. “This feels a little silly,” he commented.

“Well, that happens when you’re with a guy,” Eren replied, wondering if he was misinterpreting Marco’s words.

“No, that’s not it. Just holding a cast. I wish I could hold your hand like normal.”

Eren kind of wished he hadn’t said that. He glanced at Jean, who was smiling oddly. “Um, well, let’s go. Forward with your left.” And they began.

And Marco was good at this.

Without Eren even saying anything or having to guide him, they began rotating, dancing in a sweeping circle around the room.

Jean watched. Whenever Eren glanced over his shoulder at him, he still wore that bizarre, unreadable grin.

And he could hear Marco breathing, felt his heartbeat pulsing in the small space between their bodies, and all of it, him and Marco dancing and Jean watching, felt like some compromise between a nightmare and a dream.

“You should practice the waltz,” Jean said three more times that week. He said it every night at their private rehearsals, even though it was clear that, at least with the waltz, Marco was a natural. “You still need to work on that.”

Eren would question him about it. “He’s doing fine with the waltz. Why are you making him practice it more? And why with me and not you?”

Jean would dodge the question. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you that,” he would say.

Thanksgiving was late that year. Eren had told Hannes not to bother flying him home and back just for a few days when he would be home again in a couple weeks, anyway. Hannes had been reluctant, but he’d agreed.

And so, Thursday of that week, they held a small ball - just for the people who hadn’t gone home for the holiday to spend with their friends. Eren, Jean, Christa, and Connie(the ones out of their friend group that had stayed) had met for a little improvised dinner before leaving for the dance.

Christa giggled aloud, arms linked with Connie on one side and Jean on the other(Eren was on his other side) as the four of them skipped haphazardly up to the building’s door, shouting Wizard of Oz lyrics at the top of their lungs. At the door, they broke apart, laughing, and went in.

The first thing Eren noticed upon entering the ballroom was that Marco wasn’t on the piano. This foretold three possibilities; Marco would be playing later, Marco wasn’t coming(which was unlikely, because he’d said he would be), or Marco would be available to talk the entire evening. Eren prayed it would be the last option - he was seriously behind on his mission to get Jean with Marco(thanks to Jean’s bizarre behaviour throughout the week) and it was about time he got back on track.

To his relief, moments later, he noticed Marco standing at the edge of the crowd, not talking to anybody, and waved hello to him. Marco took notice and waved back, starting toward Eren’s group.

“Hi, Eren! Hi, Jean!” he called, grinning widely. Once he reached them, he looked to Connie and Christa. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced! I’m Marco.”

“Connie,” replied the former, shaking Marco’s hand, “and this is Christa.”

Christa smiled innocently when Marco shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Marco! I’ve heard a lot.”

Eren and Jean both stiffened, but Marco didn’t seem to question this. “I’ve heard plenty about you as well, Christa,” he replied, though Eren couldn’t recall having said anything about her in Marco’s presence.

A new song began to play as they spoke - a slow, steady three-four tune, and Eren cursed his fate - and he knew what was going to happen before it did, so he made his move before Jean could.

“Hey, listen, Marco,” he said, “It’s a waltz. You should practice - and with someone you haven’t danced with before, so you can develop your skills. Why not Jean?”

Jean smoothly turned this around on him. “Well, it’s always good to ease yourself in. Why not start with Eren, and you can try it with me or Connie or Christa later?”

“I can try it,” Marco said, a lot less nervous about his dancing than he’d been earlier that week. “Come on, Eren!”

Shit. That hadn’t worked at all - and if Jean was just going to pass Marco off to Connie or Christa the moment he had him, then this all would be for naught. Eren almost asked Jean why he was spurning his efforts, but then Marco grabbed his hand - the one without a cast - and pulled him over to the dance floor.

Their stance came naturally now, no negotiating or reminders involved. Eren and Marco settled in to the beat, sailing across the floor like they’d danced together their whole lives. Now that Marco was more confident, his style was clear - dancing with him was smooth, sweet, gentle, just like Marco himself. Dancing with him, Eren couldn’t help but relax.

“Is it against the Magical Ballroom Rules of Hope and Wonder to be more casual than this?” Marco asked, surprising Eren. He rarely spoke when they danced together. “You feel so far away.”

Eren’s eyes widened at the implication. “Well,” he mumbled nervously, “I mean… we can be closer if you want, I guess.”

Instead of saying anything, Marco simply snaked his arm further around Eren’s waist, pulling him closer until Eren’s face was almost touching his chest. He was humming something, some soft tune right in Eren’s ear, and the intimacy made Eren’s face feel unbearably hot.

After a moment, Eren recognized the tune Marco was singing - Dancing, from the musical, of course. What else would it have been?

Well. Armin had told him to put himself first for once, after all.

“ _And now that we’re dancing_ ,” he sang quietly, Marco joining in when he heard, “ _Who cares if we ever stop?_ ”

Why aren’t you dancing with Eren tonight? Connie asked him as he leaned on the snack table next to him.

Jean stared at the place where Eren and Marco were dancing, Eren having finally leaned his head on Marco’s chest. _Because he deserves happiness more than I do,_ he said. Connie frowned quizzically.

Outside, it began to snow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL LOOKIE HERE I CAN MAKE TEXT POSTS ON TUMBLR AGAIN  
> http://missplacemat.tumblr.com/post/87286134603/a-dance-for-three-chapter-3-of  
> YEAHHHH


	4. Hustle on Outta Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who got water for you when you got a headache?”
> 
> “Marco.”
> 
> “Who walked you to your dorm after the ball?”
> 
> “Marco!”
> 
> “Who do you like?!”
> 
> “Get the fuck out of my library,” Annie hissed, standing directly behind Sasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried writing this? I hope that means you cry reading this? But I also hope you don't cry because I don't want to make people cry?  
> It's a little short, but this is a pretty intense chapter. I hope you like it.

“ _Where were you Thanksgiving night_?!”

Eren shielded his eyes, squinting into the light. “What the fuck, Sasha? Get that outta my face.”

“This is an interrogation, Eren, I’m not taking the light outta your face. Now answer the question.”

“ _He_ knows,” Eren said, indicating Connie, who was standing at Sasha’s side, “He was right there the whole time!”

“Oh, stop changing the subject,” Sasha scoffed. “He’s resisting, Connie. Restrain him.”

Connie slapped one handcuff onto Eren’s left wrist and fastened the other to the arm of his chair. At Eren’s deadpan stare, he raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I know you can escape them, okay? Just pretend you can’t, for a couple minutes. It was our best option. Humor us.”

Eren rolled his eyes, but made no move to get the handcuff off. “Okay, fine. Ask me the question again. And turn that damn thing off.”

Sasha sighed and complied, tucking her flashlight into her pocket. “Where were you Thanksgiving night?” She inquired once more, leaning uncomfortably close to Eren as she did so.

“At what time?”

“He’s getting snarky.”

Connie took out a pair of tweezers and held them up to Eren’s eyebrow. Eren tried not to burst out laughing. “That’s your idea of torture? Plucking my eyebrows? Gonna make sure I’ve got a perfect arch? Ow, hey,” he objected when Connie extracted a hair.

“This is for your own good, Eren,” was Connie’s grim reply.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk, alright? I went to Christa’s with Connie and Jean, and then we all went to the conservatory for the ball, and then I went home. Why do you care?”

“What did you _do_ at the ball?” Sasha asked, leaning in even closer.

“I… uh… I danced.”

“Who with?”

“Connie.”

Connie plucked another hair, earning a sharp “Ow!” “That’s not what we were asking about, and you know it.”

“Um… Christa? Ow! I’m gonna confiscate those, Connie!”

“Let’s make this easier,” Sasha sighed, finally leaning back, giving Eren some breathing room. “Who was there that you _didn’t_ dance with?”

Eren furrowed his brow, finally beginning to see what all this was about. “Jean. But, dude, I would think you’d like that. You know, if we weren’t doing things couples do. _Ow!_ Fuck, Connie, I think you got two on that one! What did I even do?”

“Nothing,” Connie snickered, “I just like doing this.”

“You’re already building up a bald spot there, Eren. Better comply with our wishes if you care about your precious eyebrows.”

Eren frowned at his antagonists. “You two are so fucking weird. Ow.”

“Now,” Sasha said with satisfaction, “I spy, with my mind’s eye… a boy. A freckled boy, who works in this very library. His name starts with… an N? No… an M.”

“Marco,” Eren replied cautiously.

“Yes, that’s it. Did you dance with him?”

“Yeah…”

“How long did you dance with him?”

“A while… Ow - Connie, fucking stop that!”

“Our sources say,” Connie answered, “That you danced with The Freckled Wonder for over an hour on your first run together. You taught him several moves that he hadn’t known before, and after the two of you had danced with your other companions for a while, you went right back to dancing with him again.”

“There’s no way we danced that long,” Eren snapped, feeling his face grow hot. They were on to him, they were on to him, fuck, what did that mean for him, why was he feeling more pissed about his stinging eyebrow, which that exact moment was getting yet another hair removed.

“Our sources are very reliable,” Connie countered. “Particularly because our sources are me.”

“Tell us, Eren,” Sasha added, growing more triumphant every passing second, “ _Who do you like?_ ”

“I’ll never tell,” Eren said defiantly, eyes darting toward the one of the paper clips lying on the table he’d been working on before Connie and Sasha had come along. If he could get that without them noticing - though, could he really maneuver sneakily with a bound left and a broken right arm? Connie plucked another hair.

“Who got water for you when you got a headache?”

“Marco.”

“Who walked you to your dorm after the ball?”

“Marco!”

“ _Who do you like?!_ ”

“Get the _fuck_ out of my library,” Annie hissed, standing directly behind Sasha. She stiffened.

Connie shouted, “Crap, it’s the fuzz!” He grabbed Sasha’s hand and, together, they sprinted toward the stairs and the exit, whooping, hollering, and attracting various complaints from people trying to study along the way.

Eren’s handcuffs clicked open a mere second later, Eren having taken advantage of Sasha and Connie’s distraction. “Thanks, Annie,” he whispered, having finally remembered he needed to be quiet.

“I’m off duty now,” Annie said at her normal volume. “You’re not in real trouble unless Hitch comes up here, which I guarantee she won’t.” She sat herself down on Eren’s right. “What were they doing?”

Eren sighed. “Trying to find out who I like, I guess.”

Annie stared at him. “Who is it?"

“Not you, too!”

“I think you owe me,” she murmured menacingly. “I think I _may_ have just done you a solid.”

Eren bit his lip. “Well… Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” He continued breathing, in, out.

After a minute, Annie said, “So…”

“... Marco.”

“Oh.” She paused a minute, taking this in. “Not a bad choice.”

Eren sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He contemplated telling her the rest. Why not? Annie was trustworthy. Despite her initial impression, she was a good person - and relatively experienced with romance, considering that she had two boyfriends. Maybe she would even help him. He looked at her, tentatively, before muttering, “Can you… keep a secret?”

“Depends what it is.”

“Jean likes Marco, too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really?”

“Marco told me.”

“Marco _knows?!_ ”

Annie gave him a deadpan stare. “Jean’s not exactly well-versed in the art of subtlety.”

Eren thought about this. “No, I suppose he isn’t.”

Annie looked at Eren for a long moment, then began burrowing through her shoulder bag. “Hold on. I think I’ve got something that can cheer you up a bit, even if it doesn’t help much with the situation.”

Eren frowned curiously. Annie handed him a pamphlet that turned out just to be a blue sheet of paper folded into thirds and covered with bad marker drawings. On the top, the title read, “The Polyamorous Agenda; Why everybody should just have sex with everyone else”. Below that was a drawing of three people holding hands, each with a ridiculously detailed nose and clearly meant to be Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie. Reiner and Bert were smiling and Annie was wearing a neutral expression. Or maybe a frown. Eren couldn’t be sure, but he burst out laughing just the same.

“Oh my god, who did this?”

Annie gave him a tiny smile, which by her standards was an ear-to-ear grin. “Reiner drew it and dictated the words, and Bert wrote everything because his handwriting’s better. Open it.”

Eren complied. “‘Look at this miserable fucker’,” he read, chuckling at the illustration of a sad-faced gentleman, “‘He has no rent money. If only he had two or three or four hot-ass significant others to help him pay. Oh, wait, he does. Another lonely soul saved from a life of crime and/or poverty by the beauty of polyamory. Get gay, today.’ Does this go on?”

“There’s a story for every page. Five, in all.”

“Oh, my god,” Eren snickered, looking at another one. “So... You carry around your boyfriends’ little art project with you all the time? That’s... surprisingly cute of you, Annie.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, punching his shoulder. “I do it so morons like you won’t feel bad about dumbass love triangles.”

Eren looked down at the page. “You’re saying Jean and Marco and I should… ‘Start something. Three somethings’?”

Annie shrugged. “It’s an option.”

“I don’t think it’s feasible, though,” Eren muttered, handing her back the pamphlet. “Jean and I aren’t into each other like that. Thanks for the effort, though, I guess.”

Annie squinted at him. “Are you sure about that?”

“What?”

“That Jean and you aren’t into each other.”

Eren sighed in frustration, fighting the urge to roll his eyes - in this company, that would likely earn him a black eye. “ _Yes._ We’ve covered this about half a million times.”

“Marco thinks otherwise.”

This stopped Eren short. _What?_

Annie got up. “I said too much. See you later. And good luck growing that eyebrow back.”

Eren wanted to chase after her. He wanted to get more out of her, even if he got beat up in the process. He wanted to know where in the hell Marco was getting his information from, why he thought Eren liked anyone besides him.

He wanted to.

But he didn’t.

Eren knew exactly how his mother had died. He’d seen her body. He’d been told. He had all the evidence.

But, sometimes, in his dreams, that didn’t matter. He would dream of her being crushed to death beneath falling beams or broken walls. He would see her being torn in half by impossibly large jaws. Sometimes, in his deepest, darkest nightmares, the ones where he would wake up, sobbing and screaming and tangled in his sheets, it would be some dark combination of all these elements. He hated those nights.

Tonight?

A Wednesday, less than a week before exams began?

It was one of those nights.

He was kicking his legs, wailing, panting, panicked until his cast thumped against something solid and that solid thing shouted, “Fuck, Eren, what’s wrong? Calm down, I’m here, I’m right here, I’ve got you!”

Jean.

Jean, Jean, Jean, it was Jean, thank god, thank his mother, thank every higher power that might be out there watching over him because Jean was just what he fucking needed. Eren surged upward, wrapping his arms around his roommate, sobbing into his shirt. He didn’t care what Jean thought of this situation, didn’t care what snark Jean might have for him in the morning, all he needed to know, somehow, was that Jean was there, Jean was breathing.

“Eren,” Jean whispered, hesitantly returning the hug, “Eren, what’s wrong? What happened? Hold on - let me sit down, okay?”

Eren nodded into Jean’s chest, taking a deep, shaky breath before letting go. Once Jean had sank down beside him and looked into his eyes, they were wet with tears once more. “Oh, Eren, come here. Come here.”

Eren didn’t hesitate. He collapsed into Jean, gripping his waist, face in his sleep shirt once more.

“What happened?” Jean asked again, not receiving an answer. He didn’t press. He just waited a moment, and then placed a hand on Eren’s head, brushing his sweaty hair back from his face, sliding his fingers through tangled clumps in an oddly familiar gesture that Eren found himself leaning into, seeking solace from. He felt his body relax, become loose, and sighed deeply.

“Mom,” he mumbled, finally answering Jean’s question. “I dreamed about my mom.”

“Oh,” was his only reply. “Oh.”

Jean’s hands paused for a second, then continued fiddling with Eren’s locks. It felt good. Soothed the pounding headache that was probably some combination of whatever lingered of his concussion and the yucky feeling he always got when he cried.

“M-my mom’s d-dead,” he sniffed.

“I know.”

“Sh-she fell. Four stories. B-broke her neck.”

Jean didn’t say anything.

“I-it wasn’t even the explosion th-that k-killed her. She was at the window and the shock w-wave blew her out of it.”

Eren was babbling, he knew it. But he was reminding himself of how she’d really died; not in the hands of some bizarre giant, but in a terrorist attack. A horrific, bloody, completely unnecessary terrorist attack that he probably would never know whether or not his father had been part of because the piece of shit’s body hadn’t been found in the wreckage of the hospital he’d worked at, the place his mother had died, and no one had seen him since.

“I-I identified her. H-her h-head - on her n-neck -”

“Eren,” Jean interrupted.

“A-a-and m-my dad’s g-gone -”

“Eren, stop,” Jean said, and a drop of something wet hit the top of Eren’s head. “You don’t have to tell me this. I saw it on the news. The whole _world_ saw it on the news.”

Eren exhaled harshly.

“I still remember where I was when I heard about it,” Jean mumbled. “They announced it at school. We had a moment of silence for you and all the others who had lost people.”

Eren looked up at him.

“I saw your face on TV,” Jean told him. “And I was so _fucking happy_ that I wasn’t you.”

“You remember that?” Eren asked.

“I do. Every little bit. Your name - the TV showed it - it stuck with me forever.”

Eren sank into Jean’s chest again. “And then we ended up roommates. Crazy.”

“Yeah.”

They sat there in silence for a moment. Eren didn’t know what else to do, so he laughed. “And you still wouldn’t spell my fucking name right.”

“I wanted to make you laugh,” Jean muttered. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”

“You really didn’t. I miss it, actually. I don’t get why you stopped.”

“You don’t get very much of anything.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Jean ran his fingers through Eren’s hair again. “Nothing.”

Eren let Jean’s hands caress him. He was becoming too tired to care about whatever it was Jean wasn’t saying. “I’m happy, now,” he mumbled.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and it took a minute for him to realize he should elaborate. “My new dad’s stopped being an alcoholic. I got the coolest sister ever. I got the weirdest roommate ever. I’m pretty okay,” he said, and closed his eyes.

Jean’s hands came to rest.

“You guys,” gasped the choreographer, “Are fucking miracle workers. The kid’s amazing - especially in Dancing! You two should be my successors when I graduate.”

Eren glanced at Jean, who glanced back at him. “Well, we’re not majoring in that. I don’t think…”

“Anyway! Back to what we’re doing. I want you guys to be in the polka scene.”

“Aren’t we already in the Waiter’s Gallop?” Jean asked, frowning.

“I want you doing the polka, too. Can you do quick changes?”

“I’ve never tried before,” Eren admitted.

“I have.”

“Good. Well, find the others and learn it. I’ve got shit to do.”

Eren incredulously watched her go. “She can’t do that. She _can’t_ do that! I’ve got exams, I can’t be learning _another fucking dance number_!”

“Relax. You’ve done polkas before, you’ll eat this right up.”

“And who are our dance partners? In case she hasn’t noticed, we’re both fucking _guys_. I mean, I don’t see a problem with that, but there haven’t been any other same-sex matchups in this chorus.”

“I’d rather dance with you than someone else, anyway,” Jean said. He then reconsidered this. “W-wait, uh, I d-didn’t mean anything by that -”

“Well, yeah,” Eren agreed, “I mean, we’ve danced with each other so many times, it won’t be an issue. But what if they make one of us be a girl?”

“Oh.” Jean looked at him. “It would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“What?!”

“You’re shorter than me.”

“Well, _I_ have a mostly missing eyebrow, and _you_ have a daintier frame.”

“I do not!”

“Hi, guys!” Marco called, jogging up to them. “What’s up?”

“We’re debating which of us would be more convincing as a girl,” Eren said.

“ _Eren!_ ” Jean hissed, blushing.

Marco frowned. “Oh.”

“What do you think? Him, right?”

Ignoring Jean’s objections, Marco eyed both of them up and down, paused for a moment, and broke into a beet red flush. “I-I’m sorry,” he cried, covering his face, “I-I just imagined you guys - well - nothing. I didn’t imagine anything!”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “This tells me so much, and yet so little.”

“Anyway,” Marco sighed, changing the subject, “I have something to ask you, Eren. Would you mind, Jean?”

Jean stared at him for a moment, seeming to be some mixture of shocked, triumphant, and terrified. Eren himself felt a twist in his gut. They’d danced together, they’d walked home together - what was this going to be? What did Marco have to ask him?

Jean had left for home about an hour earlier than either of them. He’d told them he was tired, Happy Thanksgiving, goodbye.

When the final song played - a dance Marco didn’t know the steps to, and didn’t feel like learning just yet - he suggested to Eren, “Want to get out of here before the rest of the crowd gets going?”

“Sure,” Eren had said, heart thumping in his chest, feeling every bit as breathless as the first moment him and Marco had danced that night. He waved goodbye to Connie and Christa, who were dancing together, and joined Marco in approaching the exit. The two grabbed their coats off the rack that had been set up and ushered themselves into the snow outside.

For a moment, Marco just stood at the top of the steps, watching the little, feathery clumps of frozen water flutter to the ground in awe. Eren, standing next to him, felt his excitement coming toward him in waves, and smiled, knowing that tomorrow, he’d have to stop looking at Marco like this, have to surrender him to Jean because his conscience would never forgive him for all the wonder of this evening otherwise.

Marco’s breath came in puffs, his cheeks already frozen red. He looked over at Eren and smiled sweetly. “Sorry. Wanna walk to your dorm together?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eren had mumbled into his scarf. “And… Yeah. Yeah, let’s go together.”

And as they walked, Eren had noticed that Marco’s hands were bare, looking as if they were frozen, and he’d offered his gloves - since the right one wouldn’t fit over his cast anyway, of course. Marco had just smiled again, that smile brighter than the sun, and shyly taken Eren’s hand. The left one. The one without the cast.

And just moments later, Marco had dropped Eren’s hand to quickly fashion a snowball and toss it at Eren’s chest. Eren went to retaliate, but realized soon that he couldn’t make snowballs - he wasn’t supposed to get his cast wet.

So Marco made one for him. And Eren gripped it in his left hand and just looked into Marco’s eyes, his sweet eyes, as Marco braced himself for impact.

“Ow!” Marco huffed as the balled snow hit him in the gut, but came up laughing. “You can really throw!”

“Sorry!” Eren gasped, running up to his side, “I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No bones broken,” Marco giggled, booping Eren on the nose with his cold, wet finger, “So your record’s better than mine.”

And Eren just snorted and halfheartedly punched Marco’s shoulder. By some miracle, their freezing hands found each other again, and they walked quietly to Eren’s dormitory. And as Eren pulled out his pass, Marco swooped in and kissed him on the cheek.

“I had fun, tonight,” he said, blushing harder than ever, some bizarre, defeated look in his eyes.

“So,” Marco stammered, “Uh… Two questions. A clarification and a question, really.”

“Yeah?” Eren asked, feeling his heart pounding on his ribcage. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. He was done putting himself first. From here on out, Marco was supposed to be Jean’s. He was supposed to be helping Jean.

Marco took a deep breath. “Jean likes me,” he blurted, “Right?”

Eren blinked at him. “Y-yeah,” he admitted, confused by this turn of events.

“Okay,” Marco breathed. “Okay.” He bit his lip, frowning intensely. “Um… So, for the actual question. I w-was wondering… Uh…”

Was he gonna ask Eren if he liked him? What should Eren do in that case? Tell the truth?

“Do you… Would you…”

What? What was he gonna say?

Marco bit his lip. “Oh, never mind. I-I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s okay,” Eren sighed, relieved. He’d face this problem another day. “It’s okay, you never bother me.”

Marco’s jaw tightened visibly. He was fighting with himself. He looked into Eren’s eyes, and Eren thought he might have been on the verge of tears.

“Would you mind if I asked Jean out?” Marco ejaculated, seeming surprised even as he did so. The moment the words were out, he seemed to panic. “W-wait, th-that’s not what I was gonna -”

“Not at all,” Eren said, not quite realizing what exactly he was saying even as he said it, “Go right ahead. He’s all yours. Do it now, if you want.”

Marco stared at him. Paused for a long, painful moment, just staring at him. He seemed to deflate before Eren’s eyes. “Okay,” he rasped. And he turned around and marched back toward where Jean was waiting, chatting with someone. The person left as Marco approached and Jean turned to him and Marco asked a question.

The curious numb feeling that had taken him over suddenly broke and Eren wanted to scream and cry until someone would come to his bedside and tell him it would all be okay, he’d just been dreaming, he was gonna be fine.

But this nightmare was real.

Across the room, Jean gave him a shocked, heartbroken stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tumblr Postaroo;  
> http://missplacemat.tumblr.com/post/87526270328/a-dance-for-three-chapter-4-of-7


	5. Sugarplum Fairies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you only stop talking to a person when you can’t physically bear to say anything, anymore. You only stop talking to a person when the pain they’ve caused you stops being worth the struggle. And that hurts worse than anything. I know from experience. I imagine that boy you like got - is getting - a taste of it. But Eren - is Jean really not worth the fight, anymore?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee. Merry Christmas. It's not Christmas. Not even close.  
> This chapter ended up really long - though I guess that makes up for how short the last one was! It took a lot out of me, but I like the result I got.  
> There's finally gonna be some happy when this one's over. :)

“Eren?”

Upon hearing his name, he looked up to see Sasha standing next to his chair, holding a bowl of cereal with two apples precariously balanced on the edge. “Okay if I sit here?” she asked, indicating the seat next to him.

“Not if you’re gonna interrogate me again,” Eren sighed, scooting over to indicate she could. Sasha seated herself, carefully setting down her arrangement before turning to look at Eren, who was rubbing his temple.

“I’m sorry about that whole thing, by the way,” she told him. After a moment, she added, “I heard Marco asked Jean out.”

“Look,” Eren mumbled, “I get you’re trying to be supportive and stuff, but I need to study right now. It happened. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Sasha shifted her spoon through her bowl, making no attempt to bring its contents to her lips. She tried making conversation again. “Wanna guess how many cereals I mixed together this morning?”

“Not really.”

“Just three,” she muttered.

Eren’s head dropped into his book. “I fucking hate environmental science.”

“You could switch majors.”

Eren’s eyes were stinging. _Not more fucking crying_ , he told himself. _I’m not allowed to cry anymore._

“Does Jean know you like Marco?”

So the topic wouldn’t die. Well, no use fighting it. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“Why?”

“He shouldn’t be thinking about me when he’s finally got the guy he likes,” Eren said.

“He likes Marco?”

Eren opened one eye and looked at her. “Yeah. Why else would he be dating him?”

Sasha finally ate some cereal. “Good question.”

Eren listened to her chew for a few moments, then sighed again, sitting up straight and shutting his textbook. “Screw it, I’m gonna read some History. Get my mind off of this.”

“Have you talked to Jean at all?”

“No,” Eren grimaced. “To be honest, I’ve been avoiding him.”

“Like he did back when you’d gotten out of the hospital?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess.”

“He misses you,” she told him, a little bit of song behind her voice. “You should really talk to him.”

“I can’t,” Eren whined, “I can’t, I’ll just get angry and he’ll think I’m angry at him and I’d rather just sit here and be sad for a while than make him think I’m mad at him when I don’t even have a good reason.”

Sasha groaned. “I’m not good at advice. I just wish you guys would stop making each other sad. Like, even if you guys ended up together, I wouldn’t mind as long as you stopped trying to make each other happy. Nobody ends up happy when you guys try to make each other happy.”

“Marco’s gotta be happy,” Eren said tonelessly. “He’s the one who asked Jean out, after all.”

“Are you mad at him?”

Eren’s eyes stung again, feeling wet, feeling dangerously close to breaking into actual tears. “N-no,” he mumbled, “No, I’m not.”

“It wouldn’t be wrong for you to be, you know,” said a new voice. Upon looking over his shoulder, Eren found that Christa had approached them. She had an angry look of her own on her face. “I saw him. He was being romantic the whole night. I saw you two out the window, too, holding hands. He shouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you!” She stomped her foot to emphasize her point.

Despite himself, Eren found he was smiling a little. Christa glared at him. “Sorry! You just don’t get angry very often.”

Christa sighed. Sasha put in, “Hey, if he’s feeling better, that’s a victory!” She turned to Eren. “You do feel better, right?”

Eren thought about this for a second. He smacked his forehead. “No,” he admitted. “No, I feel like shit. You know - You know that thing where your heart actually physically hurts? That’s me right now. I’m just… so…”

Sasha opened her arms. Eren exhaled and hugged her. She squeezed him gently. “It’s okay. Your life sucks right now.”

“You’re good at hugging,” he mumbled. She laughed a little.

“What’s this?” exclaimed yet another voice. Suddenly their hug got a lot more muscular. “Mid-breakfast feelings jam,” Reiner said, “I like it. Let’s make it a tradition.”

“Glad we found you,” Bertholdt remarked, holding back from the group hug. “Annie said we should look for you after we heard about the Marco thing.”

“You were looking for me?” Eren asked Annie. She calmly stared back.

“We’re friends,” she told him, and left it at that.

The last ball of the semester got cancelled at the last minute. Something about a re-scheduled concert and an inability to find another location.

Eren’s heart felt as if it were sinking into his stomach as he read the announcement text. Exams were over - finally - but he still felt wired and stressed and, yes, angry. He was still avoiding Jean, had managed to avoid talking to him at all for the last week by taking alternate routes to class and having sleepovers in his friends’ dorms(Connie’s roommate was absent about ninety percent of the time anyway, so his place was the usual suspect.) and insisting on dancing with someone else for the polka in the musical.

Jean and Marco’s first date was after rehearsal on the day that was supposed to be reserved for the annual Holiday Ball - a bigger one that was open to all students, on the condition that they didn’t use substances while they were there - and Connie had insisted he spend the evening at home.

“I love you, man,” he’d said, “But, seriously, man up. Get the fuck outta here.”

So when the director dismissed them, saying, “I don’t want to be re-learning a single one of these numbers when we get back. Practice every day. Have a good break,” Eren was prepared to go straight home and try to be fast asleep by the time Jean came back.

“Eren?”

It was Marco’s voice.

And Eren was fucking _livid._

He ignored Marco’s question and sprinted out the door.

When Eren got back to his room, he saw that Jean, in the entire week he'd been gone, had made no effort to change Eren's name on their whiteboard to Aaron.

Eren didn't care. He wanted to sleep for days. That's all he wanted, to sleep away the anxiety and heartache of the past week. That he was finally back in his own bed, in the room he called home, was only a plus to this plan. He'd sleep this night away, hopefully leave for the airport before Jean woke up the next morning, and just have some time to himself for once.

He was making good headway on this plan when he heard the doorknob rattle outside, signaling Jean’s return home. He briefly pondered pretending to still be asleep, but the door opened before he had the opportunity.

Jean stared, dumbfounded, at him. “Eren.”

Eren forced a smile onto his face. “Hi, Jean.”

“You’re - you’re back.” Jean’s voice sounded thick as he said the words, like he’d just eaten a jar of peanut butter or cried. Seeing the redness of his eyes, Eren’s bet was on the latter.

“How was your date?” he asked, keeping the cheerful facade. Jean would probably either call him out or get angry, but he figured it was worth a shot.

He did neither. All he did was frown and say, “Awful. It was - it was awful.”

Eren furrowed his brow. “Really? I’d thought - I mean, it’s Marco. He can make the best of anything - can’t he?”

“He was all ornery, the whole time,” Jean sighed, making his way to his bed. “He didn’t even kiss me, not once, and I took us to this seafood restaurant, and it turns out he’s allergic. And then, since I was so nervous, I saw someone drinking wine - fucking _wine,_ Eren, that doesn’t even trigger me on the worst of days - and j-just… flipped.”

“Jean,” Eren said quietly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to console his friend or punch the wall.

Fuck Marco.

Fuck that asshole, leading Eren on and then not even treating Jean right on their date.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“He got me out of the restaurant and stuff, but then he was like, you should really see someone about that phobia of yours, and I was still all freaked out and when he said that I just -” he sniffed, and didn’t say any more.

Marco was a fucking prick.

“Fucking asshole,” he muttered.

Jean turned to look at him. “What?” he said disbelievingly.

“Fucking,” Eren repeated, “Asshole. He’s an asshole.”

“Marco?”

“Who the fuck else would I be talking about? Yeah, Marco. He’s a fucking asshole.”

Jean looked at him for a long moment, then lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for telling you about all this,” he said.

“Don’t you fucking apologize,” Eren snapped. “Marco was being a fucking asshole, you needed to talk to somebody. Want me to do something about it?”

"Do something about it? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like punching him in the fucking face," Eren growled.

Jean stared at him, shocked. "Don't punch him in the face. Don't punch anyone in the face. Who told you to punch people in the face?"

"I don't need to be told," Eren replied angrily. "He fucking deserves it. Somebody's gotta punch that asshole."

"Eren," Jean whispered, "what happened? Where have you been? I've been so scared, especially when you ignored me at rehearsals. I miss you. Why are you so mad?"

 _"Because Marco's being a fucking prick!"_ Eren roared.

Jean looked scared, really scared, as he gazed into Eren's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Eren," he stammered, "I'm so fucking sorry."

Eren stood there a moment, watching the fear flickering like flame behind Jean's eyes.

"Fuck off, Jean," he said, lying down and facing the wall.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he could use a drink.

“Eren!” he heard bouncing down the corridor, and looked up to see a middle-aged blond man waving enthusiastically and a raven-haired young woman pelting down the hall toward him.

“Mikasa!” he exclaimed, feeling a smile - a genuine smile - spread across his face for what seemed like the first time in forever. He ran forward to meet her, embracing her tightly, getting embraced even tighter in return. “Shit, Mikasa,” he grunted into her ear, “you’re even stronger than you used to be.”

Mikasa let him go and stood back, just looking into his eyes for a moment, a small smile curling her lips. “Missed you,” she said, brief and restrained as ever.

“Hey, kiddo!” called Hannes, wading through the crowd of people greeting their loved ones toward them. Once he’d reached his children, he held open his arms, and Eren went into them.

“Hi, Dad,” Eren mumbled, voice hampered by Hannes’s shirt. When he backed off and looked at Hannes’s hair, he made a noise of dismay. “Hannes, your hair’s even grayer than before!”

“Old age happens, Eren,” Hannes chuckled. “I’d thought you two leaving was gonna take off a couple years, but I’m aging as fast as ever.”

“Unacceptable,” Eren retorted.

“Funny, Mikasa said just the same an hour ago.”

“No, I didn’t,” Mikasa rebuffed.

“I bet you did,” Eren snickered.

Mikasa buried her nose in her red scarf. “No.”

Eren smiled at her. “I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“Me, three,” Hannes put in.

The drive home was a rowdy one, full of Eren and Hannes enthusiastically filling each other in on recent developments in their lives - prompted when Hannes asked where in the hell Eren's eyebrow went - Mikasa occasionally supplying a brief comment or who.

“Anything going on in the romance department?” Hannes asked, giving Eren a roguish wink.

Eren’s mind flitted briefly to the unread text messages, the ignored voicemails currently saved in his phone. “No,” he said curtly, effectively ending the quick flow of their conversation.

Seeming to sense the awkwardness behind this subject, Hannes didn’t pursue it. After a moment, he changed it altogether. “Armin’s home. He said he’ll be waiting for us to get back.”

“Oh,” Mikasa remarked. Eren nodded.

The rest of the ride was quiet.

Armin sat down in Eren’s desk chair, pointing to the bed. “Sit,” he ordered his companions.

Eren glanced cluelessly at Mikasa. She mimicked Armin. “Sit,” she echoed.

Eren sat.

“Now,” Armin began, leaning forward. Something in his manner had changed since he’d been at Sina; not only had he grown an inch or two, offsetting the significant height difference there’d been between him and the other two, but he seemed, altogether, more authoritative, more in command of the situation. However, Eren didn’t quite understand why he was enacting this persona now. “What’s bothering you?”

Eren frowned. “Who said anything was bothering me? I’m fine.”

“Don’t try to lie to me, Eren,” Armin lectured. “I’ve known you longer than anyone in this entire world, and I know when you’re upset. You’ve been clenching your fists all day. You clench your fists when you don’t know what else to do with your hands, and you don’t know what to do with your hands when you’re confused or angry or sad.”

Hearing this, Eren felt his hands relax, not having realized how tight he’d been holding them until he felt the ache as they fell into a more natural position. God, why did Armin have to know so much about him? “Fine,” he conceded. “You’re right, I’m not feeling great about life right now. But I don’t know if I can put what’s going on into words.”

Something about this situation felt familiar. Eren realized that he’d heard Jean say almost the exact same thing, over and over, in the week or so before Marco had asked Jean out.

Armin interrupted his train of thought. “You should still try to talk about it,” he advised, face seeming to soften as he realized just how tormented Eren was feeling at the moment. “You always feel better when you talk about your troubles. I promise I won’t mock you like I did last time, okay?”

Mikasa sat herself beside Eren, placing a gentle hand on his back. There were no words, but the gesture told him just how concerned she was about him.

Well, when they were this sincere about it, how could he refuse?

Eren exhaled slowly. Pulled his knees up to his chest, settling in for a long speech. “You know that guy I told you about? That I like - well. Liked.”

“No,” Mikasa said, at the same time as Armin replied, “Yes.”

“Start from the beginning, for her benefit,” Armin suggested.

Eren groaned. Started again. “Okay, so my roommate, right? Jean?”

“That one who was obsessed with me?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, this one day, he just - came into our room, spouting off some nonsense about some guy he’d met that was working at the library. I was helping them get together, right -”

“Did he ask you to do that?” Armin interrupted. “Sorry, just curious.”

Eren blinked. “Well - he asked me to help him talk to the guy one time.”

“No, I mean, did he explicitly _ask_ you to help him get the guy? Or did you just take that upon yourself, and he just went with it?”

Eren scanned his memory. Had Jean ever requested that?

“Oh, forget it. Just go on.”

“Um. Well. Then I met the guy… Marco. Was his name. And he was nice, he reminded me of my mom.” He saw Armin nod sympathetically, Mikasa’s eyes glue themselves to the floor. “We spent this entire afternoon just shelving books and talking, and then this happened,” he indicated his arm, “And after that, he came to the nursing school with me. And I called you,” he said to Armin.

“I hadn’t realized you two had hit it off so well,” Armin said.

“Well… We had. And it got even better, you know? Jean and I were helping him with his dances for the musical we’re in, and I was helping him with the waltz, and for a while there we were dancing together every night. Even at a ball, where we didn’t have to. Connie - my friend - said we danced over an hour that night.”

“Sounds nice,” Mikasa commented.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was so nice. And he walked me home after and we held hands and had a snowball fight - he fucking…” Eren sniffed, cursing the singular tear coming down his cheek, “H-he fucking made me a snowball to throw because I’m not supposed to touch wet stuff with my cast. And then he kissed me.” He pointed to the spot. “On my cheek.”

“So,” Armin mumbled, confused, “What’s wrong? That all sounds great.”

“A week later,” Eren said, fiddling with his freshly-washed bedsheet, “He cornered me and asked me if Jean liked him. And then he asked Jean out.”

Mikasa straightened up. Armin stared, outraged, at him.

“And I just didn’t know what to do,” Eren continued, “So I just… didn’t talk to Jean for a while after that, and haven’t spoken to Marco at all. And last night, they had their first date and Jean came back and it turns out Marco was a total asshole the whole time. He - he said he was grumpy the whole time, and when Jean had a breakdown from his phobia, he was all like, get that checked. A-and now, I think Jean thinks I’m mad at him, but I’m just - I’m in a bad place right now and I really, really just don’t want to talk to him or Marco. And I don’t know why. For Jean, anyway. I’ve got a pretty damn good idea why I wouldn’t wanna talk to Marco,” he added, bitterly.

Armin slowly shook his head. “That’s - I’m so sorry that happened to you, Eren,” he consoled. “I get why you’re so aggravated, now. Nobody deserves that.”

“I’m gonna punch that guy,” Mikasa growled.

“The thing is,” Eren groaned, “He _is_ nice. He’s always been so fucking nice, he’d say these amazing things and wouldn’t even think anything of it. He was always so nice to me and it hurts worse than anything because he’s the one who did it. And it - it’s eating at me, now, because I feel like I can’t just blame everything on him and be done with it. I feel like he must have had some reason. I just wish I knew what the fuck it was.”

“He can’t have been that nice, if he did that to you,” Armin argued. “Either that, or he must be really stupid not to realize what he did. He lead you on, Eren, and that’s inexcusable.”

“He’s tried to call me,” Eren said. “I haven’t listened to the voice messages, yet.”

“Don’t bother,” Mikasa told him. Eren pulled his phone out of his pocket anyway.

Start with the text messages.

 **Please talk to me,** said the latest. Eren scrolled up. There had to be at least fifteen texts. The first was a week old - asking Eren where he was eating lunch. It must have been from the day after Marco’d asked Jean out. There weren’t any more for a while after that, but last night, apparently, Marco had been desperate to talk to him.

 **Eren?** said the first.

**I want to talk to you.**

**I have to go on my date with Jean now, but please text me when you can.**

**Eren, look, I’m really sorry. Please, please, please answer.**

**I’ll be back, Jean’s talking.**

**I think I upset Jean. I’m sorry that I keep upsetting people.**

The ones from last night ended there. There were a few more in a similar vein from this morning.

“What’s he say?” Armin asked. Eren handed him the phone. Mikasa looked over his shoulder. Halfway through, he was shaking his head again and she was squinting in disgust.

“So, he’s texting the guy whose heart he broke,” Armin muttered, “In the middle of a date with the guy he broke your heart for. What a sleaze.” Mikasa nodded in agreement.

“No,” Eren objected, despite himself. “No, he’s not a sleaze. I know he’s sorry. He wouldn’t say he’s sorry if he weren’t sorry. He’s not that kind of person.”

“I thought you were mad at him,” Armin said with concern, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you defending him now?”

“Because,” Eren hesitated. Then it clicked. “Because you were right. I feel better, now that I’ve said something. And - and now I’m thinking straight, and I’m realizing - Marco… wouldn’t do something he didn’t mean. You don’t know him like I do - and I know him well enough to be sure that he would never have done all that with me if he hadn’t wanted to. And I think… he asked Jean out because he wanted to, too.” He stopped for a moment. “And it hurts to think that. It does. But. I think I understand.” He looked back up at Armin and Mikasa.

Armin had this painfully sympathetic look on his face. Mikasa was just looking at him disbelievingly.

“What?”

“I know you want to think the best of him,” Armin began, but Mikasa cut him off.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to excuse his behavior,” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’re trying to let him off. He broke your heart, Eren. That’s not okay. That’s never okay.” She stopped talking, staring into his eyes.

Eren felt himself deflating before her eyes. “I know you’re worried about me,” he told her, “but I’m not trying to excuse him. I’m just… figuring things out. Really, if you could talk to him, you’d get it. He doesn’t… manipulate. He’s the most straightforward person I know.” He looked into their eyes, wondering how he could make them understand.

“Do you want to try calling him?” Armin asked, as if reading his mind. “So we could feel him out a little, I mean.”

Eren’s heart jumped, then sank. “Uh,” he muttered, “No. I don’t think I’m ready for that, yet.” Then he got an idea. “Oh, but wait - I’ve got the voicemails, still. We haven’t heard those yet.”

Armin handed him back his phone. “Well, play on.”

Eren took it, maneuvering to the voicemail screen. Suddenly, he found he was nervous. “Okay,” he said, thumb hovering over the first one of the three, which was from last night, just after rehearsal. “Okay, I’m gonna play it.”

Mikasa nodded in encouragement, having slid to the floor in front of his bed, patting his leg supportively.

Eren pressed play.

 _“Eren?”_ said Marco’s voice. _“So, um. I really wanted to talk to you, since we haven’t seen each other in a while. Could you call me back? Or text me, if you don’t feel like talking. I know… well, let’s talk it all through, okay? I just want you to know I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll stop talking now. Sorry to bother you.”_

Eren looked at Armin. Armin stared at Eren’s phone, chewing on his lip. Mikasa, who had leaned her head on Eren’s mattress, was looking, puzzled, at the wall.

“Play the next one,” Armin said contemplatively.

Eren complied. This one turned out to be from late last night, long after Jean had come home.

 _“Hi,”_ Marco said, _“Uh, I’m sorry if you’re sleeping. I just… I really, really want to talk to you. I mean, I - I want you to know, I wasn’t even gonna ask Jean out. I-I mean, not for a while, at least. I know… I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I was so nervous the day it happened, I just went to auto-pilot and said the first things that came into my head, and then they turned out… awful. And completely not what I wanted to say. And that’s never happened to me, before, so I didn’t know what to do afterward, and I didn’t talk to you for a while, and then I guess you were mad at me and I didn’t know because I didn’t talk to you. But - but you should be mad! I’m not saying you -”_

The message cut out. It must have been the length limit for voicemails.

Eren checked the reactions.

When he made eye contact with him, Armin’s eyes automatically flitted away. “I guess you were right,” he said under his breath, “I can’t see that guy purposefully manipulating you. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I actually feel kind of bad for him,” Mikasa admitted, still draped on Eren’s bed.

“What for?” Armin inquired.

“I’ve done that before,” Mikasa said simply, and didn’t continue.

Armin let her have her silence, and turned to Eren. “Are you gonna call him?” he asked gently.

Eren wanted to call him. He wanted to call him, really, really badly.

But he thought of Jean again, and his heart ached. Jean, who had done nothing, who had been patient, loving, even desperate, and had had his date ruined because Marco had only been thinking about Eren. And he knew he couldn’t call Marco. Not yet.

Later on, when Armin had gone home and Mikasa to her room, Eren remembered the third voicemail. He pulled his phone back out, staring at the message in its little box. He was tempted to listen to it, find out what more Marco had had to say, yet terrified of what he’d hear.

On an impulse, he pressed the play button, making sure to turn down the volume before he did so, so as not to disturb anyone else in the house.

_“Sorry that message cut out earlier. I didn’t even realize it for another few minutes.”_

Marco’s voice was embarrassed, a sound that Eren loved hearing.

_“But… The point is, Eren… God, this is hard.”_

Tell me about it, Eren thought to himself.

_“I do like Jean. I wouldn’t have asked him out if I didn’t.”_

Eren had figured as much.

“ _But I like you, too.”_

Eren hit pause, heart going a mile a minute.

Everything he’d been hoping and fearing for what seemed like an eternity, everything he’d wanted and rejected and craved, was coming true. He clutched the phone to his chest, breathing slowly in and out.

Finally, he hit play and let the rest of Marco’s message come out.

 _“I really like you,”_ Marco said, and Eren imagined him there, lying beside him in his bed, speaking to him. _“You’re caring and passionate and genuine, all in the best of ways. And I really miss talking to you. I understand if you’re still not willing to reply. I get it. And I understand if you’re mad. You have every right to be. But I just want to make sure you know - I like you.”_

The line was quiet for a moment, like Marco was contemplating saying more, before it cut out.

After a minute or two more of holding his hands to his chest, Eren rolled over, buried his face in his pillow, and screamed.

_He likes me,_ Eren thought as he ate his breakfast the next morning.

 _He likes me,_ he thought when Mikasa asked if he could pour her a glass of orange juice.

“He likes me,” he whispered in wonder when Hannes asked what he wanted to do that day.

“What was that, kid?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just thinking out loud.”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow at him.

“But, well,” Eren contemplated Hannes’s question for a moment. “I think I’d rather just hang out here, today. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I don’t really feel up to doing anything major, and with the holidays coming up I should probably get my rest in now.”

“Me, too,” Mikasa agreed.

“Good idea. I’ll save all the fun stuff for after New Year’s, then.”

So hanging out is what he did. He spent some time reading, helping Hannes with chores, talking to Mikasa. His mind kept gravitating toward that third message in his inbox. Marco liked him; he’d wanted to believe it but also dreaded its reality. Now that it had all happened, though…

But Jean.

Jean, Jean, Jean.

Jean, who was technically Marco’s boyfriend and basically had had a shit-tastic experience with it so far.

Marco liked Eren, but he also liked Jean. Eren supposed that was a good thing, but couldn’t see any ways for this to end pleasurably.

One. Marco would continue dating Jean, and Eren would be a third wheel.

Two. Marco would break up with Jean and get together with Eren, thus making Jean sad and probably confused as well as being a third wheel.

Three. The mysterious option three, which oddly enough made him think of Annie.

The polyamory pamphlet. That’s what he was thinking of. Plus or minus one adorable memory in which Annie and Reiner both pinned Bertl down and kissed all over his face after he said something particularly, self-deprecatingly sweet.

Option three, it seemed, was all three of them together. And for one moment, the idea didn’t seem absolutely horrifying. Even if it were with Jean, who he didn’t like in that particular way, if Eren could be happy with Marco without feeling like he’d let Jean down… And Jean might even be happy about it. Not necessarily about being with Eren, but having Marco without dealing with Marco worrying over Eren.

That would probably never happen. But, suddenly, Eren felt inclined to talk to Annie about it.

 _Not until I’ve spoken to Marco and Jean,_ he told himself. And it would probably be a while before he felt ready for that.

“What are you thinking about?” Mikasa interrupted him - his thoughts, rather.

Eren looked at her. “Nothing much.”

“You haven’t turned a page in half an hour,” she told him, indicating his book.

Eren grimaced. “You got me there.”

“More boy stuff?”

“More boy stuff.”

“You should talk to him.”

“Which one?”

“Either.” She flipped a page of her own novel. “If you’re not mad anymore.”

Eren leaned back on the armrest, draping himself over it. His hand instinctively went to his back pocket, where he kept his phone. “I’m scared.”

“Understandable.”

He brought out his phone, stared at Marco’s message from last night again. He’d gotten some text messages over the course of the day, but hadn’t had the guts to look at them.

Well, if he was gonna start anywhere, texts were probably the safest bet.

None from Jean. Most from Marco. One from Armin, asking if he and Mikasa wanted to go for lunch tomorrow.

Eren opened Marco’s thread.

**I hope your vacation’s gone well so far.**

**How’s the weather where you live?**

**It’s pretty cold here. I hope it’s better where you are.**

**The snow’s nice, though. Is it weird that it reminds me of you?**

That was the end of it. Eren looked out the window, watching the stillness of the evening, watching the snow on the trees. The snow reminded Marco of him, probably because of Thanksgiving night. It wasn’t weird. It was flattering.

Bracing himself, he turned back to his phone.

 **Not really,** he typed. **It makes me think of you, too.**

His thumb hovered over the send button. Mikasa looked over, leaned to see the screen, and tapped it herself.

“Mikasa!”

She shrugged. “Better than you agonizing over it all night.”

Eren’s phone buzzed in his hand. He immediately opened the message.

**Eren?**

**Yeah** , he typed back.

**Do you want to talk? We don’t have to, if you still don’t want to. I’m just happy you replied, finally.**

After a moment, another text came. **Are you mad?**

Honesty was the best policy.

 **I was,** he replied, **But I’m okay now. I get that it was tough for you. I don’t think I’m ready to talk to you yet, though.**

**That’s okay. We can keep texting, right?**

**Yeah,** he typed back, **we can.**

Marco would text him about the most inconsequential, sweetest things over the next few days.

**I had cereal this morning. It reminded me of when your friend Sasha mixed six of them together.**

**Annie says I’m the scum of the earth. You should call her, btw.**

**You have a dog, right? Does he like snow? I used to have one that liked snow a lot.**

Eren would text back, tenderly, lovingly, every time. And sometimes, Marco would ask if he could just leave a voicemail for Eren to listen to, and Eren would say yes, ignore the call notification when it popped up, and late at night, he would play Marco’s words and dream that they were together.

Something was missing, though. And it wasn’t just Marco’s body curled next to his.

One night, Marco sent him a voicemail that went as follows:

 _“I feel really bad about Jean,”_ he said, voice raspy, _“Talking to you like I’ve been feels like… I’m doing him wrong. I just wish he would text me back. I really miss him - I mean, not that I don’t love talking to you! It’s just… I’m so sorry about how bad our date was, and I want him to know that. I shouldn’t have been so surly with him. Has he been talking to you at all? Thinking about why he might not be answering makes me scared. I love talking to you and I feel so much better than when I couldn’t, but I really want to apologize to him and make sure he’s okay.”_

This information took a moment for Eren to process. Jean hadn’t been talking to Marco? Hadn’t been answering texts or calls or anything?

Why?

Jean liked Marco. He liked him. Didn’t he? Why wouldn’t he be answering?

Was it because of Eren?

In his aggravation, he found himself pressing the “call back” button on Marco’s message, pressing the phone to his ear before remembering how long it had been since he’d talked to Marco, himself. Shit. Shit, what was he gonna say? He found himself praying that Marco was off somewhere else, so Eren could just leave a voicemail like Marco had been doing for him.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve been texting him all the time. I’ve been listening to his voice messages. Why can’t I just work up the nerve to talk to him like a normal person?_

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

_“You’ve reached the cell phone of Marco Bodt!”_

Oh, thank god.

He waited out the outgoing message, let the beep come. Took a deep breath.

“Hi, Marco,” he choked out.

“I, uh… I listened to your message, just now. I-I didn’t realize Jean hadn’t been talking to you.”

Now that he was trying to say things, nothing would come out. Just his fucking luck.

“I haven’t spoken to him. I mean - I haven’t tried. I think he thinks I’m mad at him. I was kind of a jerk to him after he came back from your date. But… I can’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t be talking to you. L-like, you guys’ date shook him up a lot, but I don’t think he was mad. Just disappointed. I think… I think he felt like he did something wrong.”

Eren bit his lip, trying to think of something more to say. It seems he waited too long, though, because he heard a beep and a robot-esque voice informing him that his message was over, giving him the option of recording more, deleting, or sending as it was. He chose the third option.

He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, feeling scared despite himself. Jean wasn’t answering Marco. What was wrong? Where was he?

He contemplated calling him. He contemplated asking what in the hell was going on, was it his fault, was Jean okay? He contemplated calling the number Jean’s mother had given him the first time they’d met, her home number, for Jean-related emergencies or if he just wanted a nice little chat.

He clutched his phone, admonishing himself internally when he didn’t do anything with it.

He had to be the biggest coward in the world.

Early the next morning, Eren found a new voice message. Marco’s voice on the other end sounded joyous, but choked. He was sniffling the entire time, and it took Eren a couple playthroughs to realize he was crying.

 _“Eren,”_ Marco sobbed, _“I’m so glad you talked to me. I’m so glad I finally heard your voice.”_

That was it.

There was a number of text messages, too, both thanking Eren copiously for finally talking to him and fretting over Jean’s absence. Eren sighed deeply and draped one arm over his face. It was too early to be thinking about all this complicated stuff.

Oh, hold on. There was a new conversation thread.

It was Annie.

**You okay?**

The message had been received an hour ago. Eren just looked at it for a moment. When, exactly, had Annie become so concerned over him?

Well, out of his friend group, she was probably the closest to Marco - meaning she had something of a connection with all three of the people he was currently strifing over, Marco, Jean, and himself. If anyone could offer advice on the situation, it was her.

Eren called her.

 _“Hey,”_ panted a voice on the other end. _“I was wondering when you’d finally call back.”_

“Sorry,” Eren said automatically. “I’ve been going through some stuff.”

_“I’ve heard.”_

“Why do you sound like you’ve been running?”

_“Just came back from one.”_

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence. Annie broke it. “ _So,”_ she said, _“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”_

“I guess.”

_“You don’t have to, you know.”_

Eren heard a knock on his door. “Hold on a second, Annie,” he told her. Raising his voice, he called, “What is it? You can come in.”

Mikasa opened the door, raising an eyebrow at the phone in Eren’s hand. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry -” Then he remembered. It was Christmas Eve. Shit. He didn’t have time for holidays right now. “Oh, wow, merry Christmas.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“What? Oh - no, I’m just talking to my friend, Annie. Right -” he lifted the phone to his ear - “Annie, can I call you back later? I just remembered I’ve got… Well, it’s Christmas.”

_“I’m aware. Merry Christmas. Talk later?”_

“Yeah, talk later. Bye.”

“ _Bye.”_

“Sorry about that,” Eren muttered. “So, we’re going to town, right? With Armin?”

“Yes,” she told him, “Though it’s only fair to warn you - Armin’s determined to talk through your romantic troubles.”

Eren groaned. “I did that all last night and I was doing that with Annie. Can’t I take a break?”

She shrugged. “Take it up with Armin.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Armin said as he drove them to their destination - lunch, and then a walk around the local parks to see the lights before people showed up in obnoxiously large groups. “In fact, call up your friend again. The more opinions we have, the better, and our drive’s a long one anyway.”

“I don’t need _two_ tiny blonde people telling me what to do with my life,” Eren said under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Put it on speaker.”

It took a moment for Annie to pick up again. _“Thought you had stuff to do,”_ she said, right off the bat.

“My nosy best friend wants your opinion on something.”

“Hi, there. I’m Armin.”

“ _Annie. Romantic stuff?”_

“Yes, indeed.”

“Unfortunately,” Eren added. Mikasa chuckled, sitting in the backseat and looking out the window.

_“Shoot.”_

“Well, Eren,” Armin began, “Care to fill us in on the latest developments?”

Eren grumbled, but complied. “Marco and I’ve been texting. Sometimes he leaves me voice messages. He likes me, but he likes Jean, too. Last night he told me that Jean hasn’t been answering him. I left a message for him. And now we’re both worried about Jean.”

 _“Don’t worry about him,”_ Annie advised. _“There’s nothing questionable going on, don’t worry. You should probably just call or text him, yourself.”_

“How do you know that?”

_“I’ve been talking to him. Formulating plans, if you will.”_

“What for?”

_“Nothing in particular. You should just call him.”_

“I have to agree on that one,” Armin admitted. “If it really worries you that much, try talking to him. Maybe he has a reason with Marco, but he might talk to you if you approach him first.”

Eren stared at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. “But I’m scared.”

“What of?”

Eren contemplated this.

Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”

That night, all together, he and Mikasa and Hannes did some last-minute tree decorating. Mikasa was allergic to pines, so they had a fake tree that they set up every year and just left the lights on, but that didn’t say much about ornaments or garlands.

“You’re not allowed to touch the ornaments anymore, Mikasa. You’re too strong.”

“I won’t break any more,” she objected weakly.

Eren directed her toward the couch. “Sit down and think about what you’ve done.”

Hannes looked down on them from atop his stepladder, where he was trying to get the star on without it leaning or falling. “He’s probably right, Mikasa. Why don’t you take Sammy for a walk? He’s been stuck inside all day.”

Mikasa turned her head to see where the dog was lying on his side, tongue lolling out of his mouth in boredom, beside the couch. She crouched down in front of him. “Walk, Sammy?” At this, his head perked up and he gave a little whine of approval.

Mikasa leashed up the dog, wishing Hannes and Eren good luck with the rest of the tree, and left. Afterward, the living room was oddly quiet - not that Eren noticed. He was too busy finding a good place to hide their pickle ornament.

Hannes, finally finished with the star, put away the stepladder and started working with Eren at finding good places for each ornament. When he came across three pipe-cleaner hearts, he said, “Oh, we’d better save putting these up for when Mikasa’s back. Wouldn’t wanna hang these without her.”

Eren nodded, not having to look to see what Hannes was talking about. He continued pulling apart strings of tinsel. Eventually, he felt eyes on him and looked up to see Hannes gazing intensely at him.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kid.”

Hannes was perched on the edge of the armchair, hands still cradling their most important ornaments, just looking at Eren. Eren felt his eyebrows furrow. “Something wrong?”

Hannes gave him a little smile and shook his head. “No. Actually, I’m a little proud of myself.”

“What for?”

He looked down at the photographs encircled by pipe-cleaners. “My most recent girlfriend broke up with me. I’m proud to say I didn’t touch a bottle, not even once.”

Eren grinned. “That’s great, Dad.”

Hannes returned the smile. “It’s because of you, kiddo. You’re so determined. You do what’s right, every time. Plus, I reminded myself how much it hurt when you wouldn’t talk to me after I used to cave.” His face was somber, now. “I’ve had people ignore me, before. It never hurt as much as when you used to do it. I guess maybe it’s because you’re my son, but I don’t know if that’s it.”

This conversation was feeling familiar. Eren sank onto the couch. “Has Armin been talking to you?” he asked, quietly.

“Mikasa, actually. She’s worried about you. She told me about your friend - how he’s not talking to that guy you like, how you’re not talking to him.” Hannes was looking at the ornaments in his hands, again. “Eren… I don’t think anything could hurt more than you having nothing to say to a person. You yelling and screaming at me when I was drunk - that, I could handle. You crying and begging me to put the bottle down - piece of cake, compared to you not talking.” He looked up. “But you only stop talking to a person when you can’t physically bear to say anything, anymore. You only stop talking to a person when the pain they’ve caused you stops being worth the struggle. And that hurts worse than anything. I know from experience. I imagine that boy you like got - is getting - a taste of it. But Eren - is Jean really not worth the fight, anymore?”

And Eren stared into Hannes’s eyes, wanting to cry. Because he’d put everything right on the nose. Eren’s fear of talking to Jean was keeping him from saying anything, from putting in the call - where was it coming from? And did that fear, the potential consequences of finally calling Jean, really outweigh the value of their friendship?

Where did the fear come from?

He felt his phone in his back pocket, the same position as always, and it seemed to weigh him down.

“I’ll call him,” he told himself, told Hannes.

Hannes stood up, walked over to him, and ruffled his hair. “Not until you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay,” Eren agreed numbly.

Later on, after Mikasa finally came home, Eren stood in front of the tree, staring at the final three ornaments they’d hung.

One heart of blue and green twined together, framing a photo of Mikasa’s beautiful mother and father.

One heart of warm red, encircling the face of Hannes’s dead wife.

And one clumsily crafted golden heart, around a picture of his mother.

His hand was clasped around the key hanging from his neck. He turned sharply, heading for his room, and shut the door behind him. He removed his mother’s music box from his closet and wound it up.

With the gently plinking tune softly singing, Eren drifted into slumber.

Christmas Day was lovely. Snow gently fell the entire day. Eren got a boxed set of National Geographic historical documentaries from Hannes and a set of reindeer antlers from Mikasa(which, of course, he wore for the entire rest of the day). Later on, they went to Armin’s house for the evening, because their own extended families lived far away, in the town where Eren and Mikasa (and Armin, but that was a different story) had lived until the age of ten, when the recently widowed firefighter Hannes had found them, sobbing, next to their parents’ bodies, and decided to adopt them.

Armin’s family was large and welcoming and kind, but they did drink quite a bit. Hannes left when the alcohol started getting passed around, shortly after dinner, but Eren stayed for a couple hours more, despite the discomfort being around buzzed people caused him. It was easier for him because Armin invited him up to his room, where they just sat and talked - thankfully, not about Jean - for the remainder of his stay.

Eventually, he did leave. Not because he was tired, and not because he was uncomfortable, and not even because he was thinking about Jean.

He wanted to look at the snow.

“Thanks for coming, Eren,” Armin said, giving him a hug. “And take those ridiculous antlers off.”

“I couldn’t get my cast off and I couldn’t have the dignity of a fully grown eyebrow for Christmas, Armin. At least give me this.”

“Get off my lawn, you weirdo.”

“Love you too, Armin.”

The door shut behind him and Eren descended down the porch steps, approaching the front gate. He glanced back, making sure no one was watching, before tilting his head back and catching a few snowflakes on his tongue. He smiled at the sensation, thinking of Marco. He’d texted him a couple times that day, wishing him a merry Christmas, and gotten some lovely replies back.

Thinking about Marco made him think about Jean, though. And thinking about Jean made him think of what Hannes had said to him.

He could call under the guise of wishing him a merry Christmas. It was perfect.

Without hesitation, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and selected Jean’s number. Hey, it was Christmas. He might not even answer. He might be able to just leave a voicemail like he’d been doing with Marco.

Jean picked up on the second ring.

Shit.

_“Hello?”_

“Um, hey, Jean. It’s me. Eren, I mean.”

_“Hey, Eren.”_

“Hey.”

There was a moment of silence. Eren murmured, “Merry Christmas. Sorry if I interrupted your time with your family.”

“ _What? Oh, no, I’m not with my family. My mom and dad are the only ones out of the bunch who don’t drink. Or think negatively of queer people, for that matter. I’m just hanging out at home.”_

“Oh.” Eren said. Then, without thinking, “That’s a little disappointing.”

 _“Eh, not really. I’m used to it. It’s actually a lot nicer than back when I forced myself to go.”_ Another moment of hesitation. _“What’s that - that noise, right next to the phone?”_

“Huh? Oh! My antlers - uh, I’m wearing deer antlers with these bells on them. Mikasa gave them to me.”

Jean snorted. “ _You nerd.”_

Eren shook his head around, letting the jingle bells answer for him. Jean laughed at him, though not in mean spirit.

_“I missed talking to you, dude.”_

Eren looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d think I was mad at you. After, uh… last time.”

“ _No, I got it. You were in a weird situation, you know? I figured I’d just give you some space.”_

“When did you get so cool?”

_“Always was, Eren. Womb to the tomb.”_

Eren felt himself smiling. “So… You’re not mad? At me?”

_“Why would I be?”_

“I yelled at you. For no reason. Right after you had a shitty date.”

“ _Well, no. I wasn’t mad. More… well, I don’t know how to explain it. But Annie helped me out.”_

“Right - Annie! She told me you guys had been talking.”

_“Yep. How much did she tell you?”_

“Only that the two of you were forming devious schemes.”

_“Good.”_

Eren watched the snow falling for a minute. Took a deep breath. “Marco’s really worried about you, you know. He really wants to apologize.”

Jean didn’t say anything.

“See… How can I explain this, shit. He, uh, the reason the date - well…” He trailed off. Could he tell Jean everything? Would it break his heart?

_“It’s okay, Eren. I’m sure he had his reasons. I’ll call him, okay? Now that I’ve talked to you, I’ll call him.”_

Eren let out a relieved sigh. “You will?”

 _“I will. Only because, Eren - I…”_ There seemed to be some word stuck to the tip of his tongue for a moment. _“I hope you had a good Christmas.”_

“You too, Jean. I’m glad I finally talked to you again.”

_“Me too, Eren.”_

“Call Marco!”

_“I will.”_

“And eat lots of festive junk.”

Jean chuckled. _“I will.”_

“Um… Later.”

_“Bye, Eren.”_

Eren kept holding his phone to his ear for a moment after the line went dead. He’d done it. He’d called Jean, talked to Jean, managed not to mess up or get scared off. They’d talked - like normal people.

His heart was thumping a mile a minute, and it didn’t even feel weird.

He grinned up toward the sky, opening his mouth to catch another snowflake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I do hyperlinks in my notes? Aww heck. The Tumblr post;  
> http://missplacemat.tumblr.com/post/88122381878/a-dance-for-three-chapter-5-of-7  
> EDIT: Okay, little question for anyone willing to answer; how would you guys feel about me changing the rating and including smut in this? I'd been reluctant because this was already rated T and I figured I shouldn't give any unwelcome surprises, but a couple Tumblr people have asked for it and it's kind of looking like my writing for next chapter is approaching that conclusion anyway. So, what do you guys think?


	6. Traveling in Paso Doble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean turned away from him, still walking. “Let’s talk about this later, okay?”
> 
> “I don’t see why we can’t talk about it now! I don’t think you get how frustrated and confused and all that shit I am right now! I don’t get why you’re making these elaborate plans that everybody knows about except me! Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY UPDATED. I FINALLY FLIPPING DID IT.  
> THIS CHAPTER WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS LONG. I HAD TO CUT IT OFF BECAUSE IT WAS GOING ON TEN THOUSAND WORDS. I AM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.  
> ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. YOU GET SMOOCHES AND FLUFF AT THE END. AND THE END IS AT A TITALLY AWFULAWFULBAD PLACE BUT I D O N T C A R E. UNFORTUNATELY SMUT AND THE END OF THE STORY COME NEXT CHAPTER. AND THEN THE EPILOGUE. OR MAYBE I'LL COMBINE THEM INTO ONE THING. I HAVEN'T DECIDED YET. BUT THERE ARE STILL SO MANY THINGS TO WRAP UP OH MY GOD.  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE WITH ME. YOU ARE RADICAL FOLKS.  
> ALSO IT IS RATED E NOW BECAUSE YOU ARE DIRTY, DIRTY PEOPLE. GOOD DAY.

Jean was blindfolded. Blindfolded with his hands tied to the headboard. Across the room, Marco was sitting, watching them. Fucking. They were having sex.

It was good. It was delicious. There was something entrancing about Marco’s gaze as he watched Eren thrust in and out of Jean’s ass, over and over and over again, small, beautiful little gasps escaping Jean’s lips. Eren, knowing he would be cumming all too soon if those sounds continued, moved forward to cover Jean’s mouth with his.

“Don’t kiss him,” Marco said, standing up and walking over to his side. This was okay. He liked hearing Marco’s authoritative voice.

“I see you,” Jean said, not nearly as breathily as Eren would have expected. He was still blindfolded. “I see you.”

Marco had sat himself beside him. Eren tried to kiss him.

“I see you,” Jean repeated.

“Don’t kiss me,” Marco said.

“I see you.”

Eren frowned. “I don’t get it,” he mused. “If you’re here and I’m dancing with Jean, why can’t I kiss you guys?”

Dancing?

Who was dancing?

He wasn’t dancing. He was flying through the air, spiraling and somersaulting and dodging some gigantic enemy, and Jean was following close behind. Where was Marco?

“I see you,” Jean shouted, and suddenly Eren was falling.

“OOF!” Eren interjected, twisting and scrambling to pull himself upward as he found himself, tangled in his sheets, on the hardwood floor.

How had he gotten there? Some kind of… dream. It had been a dream. He knew this for certain. A weird one.

It had also, apparently, been an exciting one, if the heat pooled in his groin was any indication. He groaned a little. He was too fucking tired to jack himself off. He settled for pulling himself back into bed, dissuading his erection by thinking of how many times he’d wet this very mattress back when the accident had first happened and he’d been swamped by nightmares.

Twenty minutes later, however, it was becoming clear that he wouldn’t be falling back asleep that easily, and not even because of his arousal. Something, some part of his dream had deeply unsettled him, had him glancing into the darkest corners of his room at the smallest sound. It took him a moment, but he suddenly found himself wondering about Marco.

He looked at his alarm clock. Four a.m, the day after Christmas, only a matter of hours after his conversation with Jean. Eren knew, now that he’d spoken to Jean, that Marco would have to follow soon enough, but maybe this wasn’t the best time for that. Hearing Marco’s voice would be a comfort, yes, but he’d rather be fully awake when they had their first real conversation in the last couple of weeks.

Maybe touching himself was a good idea, after all. At least it would get his mind off things. He leaned over, fetching a tissue from the box on his nightstand, and reached into his pants.

**I called Marco,** Jean informed him via text later that morning, as Eren was gearing up to go on the treadmill(as he lived in Vermont and it would be pretty treacherous trying to jog outside in late December). **Everything’s okay now.**

 **Good. He was worried about you** , he replied.

**I didn’t know you hadn’t called him, either.**

Shit. He hadn’t known Marco would tell Jean about where their relationship was - and what had prompted that, anyway? They were supposed to be talking about their own relationship, not Marco’s with Eren. Now he felt like a hypocrite.

Jean sent another text. **I mean, I get it, you know? I just wish you’d told me.**

 **Sorry** , he responded. **I was gonna do that today. I wanted to talk to you first.**

 **Okay** , Jean said, **I guess I get it. I was doing the same thing, after all.**

He was? That was weird. It did make sense, now that Eren thought it through, and he thought he remembered Jean saying something similar the night before - but… why? Why would he want to hear from Eren, first?

Eren contemplated voicing his confusion. Instead, he resigned himself, reasoning, _hey, if Jean wants to tell me, he will_. **I’ll call him right now** , he told Jean.

**Cool. Hope it goes well.**

Not terribly encouraging, but it looked like that was all he was getting, for now. Eren exhaled sharply, navigating to Marco’s name on his contact list. It wouldn’t be that bad, right? At least they’d already been communicating, so all the hard bits were past. This would probably just be an easy conversation, like the one with Jean had turned out to be - they were friends, after all. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that. They were friends.

He called Marco.

It went to voicemail almost immediately. Marco had probably seen the notification and ignored it, like they’d been in the habit of doing lately. He should’ve texted first.

Eren hung up and called again. This time, Marco picked up. A hesitant voice greeted him.

_“Um… hello?”_

“Hi, Marco.”

_“Eren?”_

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of quiet on the other side, followed by what sounded like shuffling and mumbled words, and then a door closing. _“You called me,”_ Marco finally breathed into the receiver.

“Yeah,” Eren said, hollowly, “I did.”

There was another long moment, and Marco said, _“Sorry.”_

“What?”

_“Um… Just. I’m sorry. For - for leading you on, back then, and asking Jean out. And talking to you so much lately. Like, sometimes I feel like I’m doing the same thing - the, uh, leading you on thing, all over again. And I feel bad. But I like talking to you, and I don’t want to stop.”_

“You’ve already apologized for all that, Marco,” Eren soothed him, laying back on the ottoman he’d perched on to put on his workout shoes. “It’s okay. We’re friends, this is normal. We’re just… talking. Like friends do. It’s okay.”

 _“You’re a lot more than a friend to me, Eren,”_ Marco said automatically.

“I can’t be,” Eren told him. His heart felt like it was kicking him in the ribs from the inside. “You’ve got Jean, already.”

Another pause. _“Right.”_ Some kind of movement traveled down the line. _“Right. I - I talked to him. Everything’s okay now.”_

“He told me. Like, that exact thing, actually. Did it go okay?”

_“Yeah. Uh. We planned another date.”_

Eren stared at his cast. It was getting to be less of a distraction lately, but he wanted it off. It felt like a prison. “Oh.”

_“Well, not much of a plan, really. We, uh, talked through stuff, and there’s a day and time and stuff, but we haven’t planned what we’re doing on it.”_

“Fun,” Eren mumbled. His cast made his fingers feel numb. It made his arm feel dead.

Marco was quiet for another moment. _“Wanna talk about something else?”_

“Please.”

Mikasa entered the room. “Are you ever gonna work out, or can I get on now?”

“Go ahead.”

_“That your sister?”_

“Yeah.”

_“What’s she like?”_

“Kinda quiet, I guess. She likes protecting me.”

_“Like Jean?”_

Eren scoffed. “Jean doesn’t protect me!”

_“I think he’s your knight in shining armor.”_

“More like the knight’s faithful steed.”

Marco chuckled. Eren found himself smiling.

Friendship was all he needed.

The rest of his break passed relatively anticlimactically. Eren spent plenty of time with his family, re-aquainting himself with his hometown of eight years, and spent much of the rest of the time calling or texting or skyping with his friends from university - namely, Marco and Jean. After his initial conversation with Marco, discussions about the two’s relationship were kept to a bare minimum, even when the three of them all chatted together. It was nice. The three of them had a nice dynamic, and sometimes he even forgot that he was a third wheel in the relationship.

It would always come back to him, though, and every time made him want to hit himself for being such a moron.

Sometimes, Annie would call him. It was like she had some kind of radar, always telling her when Eren was feeling invasive. _You’ll be okay,_ she’d tell him, surprisingly gently, and then she’d make him join a group chat with her, Bertholdt, and Reiner. The boys even offered to make him a special pamphlet just to cheer him up.

Sasha called, and Connie. Christa, too. Once, Mikasa entered the room while he was skyping with Sasha. After she’d left, Sasha interrogated him about everything about her. He told her she was as bad as Jean. She replied that he had a hot sister.

“It’s official,” Eren joked, “Connie’s our friend group’s last outpost of straightness. May he remain strong.”

 _“I’ll make sure he eats his vegetables,”_ Sasha promised him.

He missed his friends. He missed having a schedule. By the time he needed to go back, he was very ready to do so.

“I’ll miss you,” he told his family, told Mikasa and Armin and Hannes.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” Hannes told him.

Mikasa had her face buried in her scarf, but the look in her eyes said all her goodbyes for her.

Armin just frowned and shook his head. “You’re hopeless,” he informed Eren, opening his arms for a hug.

A few hours later, more hugs awaited him when he touched down in Chicago, where Christa and her minivan were waiting to pick everyone up and take them to school. The group she was taking included himself, Sasha, Connie, Reiner(who had yet to land), and, surprisingly enough, Ymir.

“Hi, Eren!” called the petite blond as he approached the group, surrounded by a small entourage of other people from his flight. She skipped forward and embraced him automatically. Upon backing away, she informed him, “Okay, Reiner’s flight lands in fifteen minutes at Concourse C. We gotta get moving!”

“Slow down, Blondie,” Connie snickered, ruffling her hair. “Let us all say hi, first!”

“Still got that thing on?” Ymir asked Eren, indicating his cast.

“Yeah. But they’re gonna take it off right away tomorrow!”

“Congratulations!” Sasha cried, leaping forward at last to wrap him in her arms. “You didn’t bring your sister?”

“I was scared you would eat her,” Eren snarked.

Sasha gasped, scandalized, standing back from the hug. “I’m no cannibal!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Connie put in. She punched him in the arm. He just chuckled and pulled Eren into a hug. “Missed you, man.”

“You, too.”

Even Ymir, in the heat of the moment, gave him an awkward one-armed hug, only briefly and very loosely, though it was the thought that counted, he supposed. Afterward, they set off to pick up Reiner.

“So,” Connie began as they walked, “How’s it going with Jean? And Marco?”

Eren stared at him for a moment. Sasha punched him again. “The fuck was that for, Connie?” she hissed.

“I was curious.”

“You weren’t supposed to -”

“Concourse C, everybody!” Christa reminded them loudly, glancing nervously at Connie and Sasha.

Ymir was frowning. Eren was too. This sounded a little suspicious.

“What are you guys talking about?” he inquired, at the same time as she said, “Marco Bodt? That kid from my elementary courses?”

“Yes,” Sasha growled, teeth gritted, looking pointedly at Connie. “ _That_ Marco.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Eren repeated, no longer walking with them, standing firmly in one place. “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“Plans,” Christa said nonchalantly. “Keep walking, we’ve got to get Reiner!”

Plans. Plans? He’d heard about those, hadn’t he - two weeks before, talking to Annie, and again talking to Jean. “What plans?” he asked automatically.

“Come on, honey, spill,” Ymir added with unwarranted glee, hugging Christa from behind and finally making everyone else realize, _oh, so that’s what she’s doing here_ \- “Secrets, secrets are no fun!” she sang.

“Nonna yer business,” Sasha replied, slipping into her Southern accent in her aggravation. “You’re just gonna have to wait to find out when everyone else does.”

“Everyone else already knows!” Eren exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who’s in the dark, here!”

“Uh, no, I am too,” Ymir told him.

“They’d probably just tell you the moment I walked away anyway.”

Sasha, Connie, and Christa all busied themselves trying to look innocent. When he saw the glare Eren was sending them, Connie bit his lip.

“Connie,” Eren rumbled.

“Oh, shit,” Ymir exclaimed, holding up her hands and backing away. “This guy means business, Baldy.”

“Be strong, Connie,” Christa lectured.

“You guys are assholes,” Connie muttered under his breath. Eren took a step closer. “Come on, why’s it gotta be such a secret anyway? I don’t see why we shouldn’t tell him.”

“Annie’ll hand you your genitals on a plate,” Sasha said.

“Right. Sorry, Eren, no can do.”

Eren groaned. “Please? Please, please, I’ll do anything! This is so ridiculous, why can’t you guys tell me what’s going on?”

Christa took out her phone. “Shit! Reiner’s here! I told you guys to hurry!”

Sasha gasped. “Christa! Did you just -”

“Yes, I fucking swore,” Christa snapped, then relented. “Okay, sorry, that was mean.”

“No, it was just kinda cute,” Ymir snickered.

“Get moving!”

Together, they raced down the hall to Reiner’s gate, where the tall boy waited for them. As one, they tried to stop running, but the effect was ruined when he swept them all into his arms anyway. “Hey, guys!” he shouted excitedly. “Good break?”

“Reiner,” Eren struggled to say, “Let go, I think you’ve crushed Christa between us.” Indeed, the shortest of them was smushed between Eren’s and Reiner’s chests, appearing as little more than a pouf of blond hair.

“Oh, gosh, sorry,” Reiner exclaimed, dropping the embrace. “Got too excited, I guess. Hey, Ymir.”

“Reiner,” Ymir replied.

“Dude, pick me up,” Connie begged. Reiner snickered and crouched, offering Connie his shoulder, and let the smaller guy clamber on. Once they’d gotten situated, Connie gave a whoop. “Okay, let’s go!”

“Still gotta get my bags, man.”

“Have you got any, Eren?” Christa asked.

Eren slapped the duffel at his side. “Just this. Now, can you tell me what’s going on?”

Christa gave him a sympathetic shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Eren. I would if I could, I swear!”

Eren sighed deeply. “Well. I guess I’ll just wait for everything to come out.”

“Talking about the ‘plan’?” Reiner cut in. Christa nodded and Eren turned hopefully to him. “Sorry, kid, I’m sworn to secrecy, too. Don’t let it worry you, okay? There’s nothing illicit going on, I promise. In fact, once everything comes out, I think you’ll be pretty happy with the result.”

Eren blinked. “Really?”

“Really. Oh, right! Hey, do you wanna hang out on Friday? Bert and Annie and me were gonna do something, but something came up and I figure it sucks wasting some good plans.”

Friday. The day Jean and Marco were going on their date. Well, he sure didn’t want to be sitting idly in his dorm room, wondering what they were doing. That had been torture enough the last time. “Sure, man. What’s the plan?”

“I don’t wanna ruin it. Just, ah, wait for me outside my dorm, okay? I’ll get you. Six-thirty good for you?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool. Gotta get off, Con-man, don’t wanna fall down the escalator.”

“Boo.”

“Connie.”

“BOO.”

“Protect your hetero, Connie!” Sasha chanted.

“Never!” Connie bent down and kissed the crown of Reiner’s head. “Where’s your stronghold of heterosexuality now, suckers?”

“We believed in you, Connie!” Eren gasped through his laughter. “We all believed in you, and you’ve let us down!”

He let himself forget about the plan.

Eren stared at the whiteboard, wondering what was wrong with it. In a flash, he realized that the issue was, in fact, that there was anything wrong with it at all. And by issue, it would be more accurate to say “problem solved”.

Jean and Aaron. The whiteboard said _‘Jean and Aaron’,_ the ‘ _Aaron_ ’ written freshly in blue Expo.

Eren felt a smile spread across his face. At least that was back to normal. He couldn’t even bring himself to correct it. Instead, he stared affectionately at the familiar, slanting handwriting for another moment.

Jean was the best.

Opening the door, he chirped, “Hey, man,” to Jean, who was already sprawled on his bed, sorting through his textbooks for the new semester. Jean glanced up, grinned at him, and set his current focus down to hold his arms open.

“Get over here, dude.”

Eren dropped his bags(the duffel as well as one from the school bookstore, where he’d stopped before coming) onto his own bed - his familiar, creaky, poorly shapen bed that Jean had promised he could trade for his own slightly better one earlier in the year but Eren found he didn’t mind all that much - and plopped into Jean’s embrace, nestling his face comfortably against the side of Jean’s head. He found himself lingering. Jean smelled nice - smelled… warm, if it were possible. It was good. He smelled good.

Jean fidgeted but didn’t pull away, instead turning his head to look into Eren’s face, an endearing smile on his mouth. His mouth, which was maybe an inch away from Eren’s, their noses lined up so they wouldn’t hit each other. Their noses, letting out warm air that Eren could feel tickling his lips.

Eren suddenly felt very awkward. He expected Jean to pull away, to realize the intimacy of the situation, but if Jean noticed, he gave nothing away, nothing in his brown eyes flecked with gold indicating discomfort. So Eren turned his face away, feeling it burn as he scooted away from Jean on the bed.

He glanced around, searching for something to distract himself from Jean, who was still just looking at him, still just smiling a little, and found something automatically.

“Hey,” he muttered, looking down at a discarded textbook. “Hey, don’t I have one of these?”

“Hm?” Jean’s gaze followed his, reading the title of the textbook, _Rainforests in Ruin_. “Oh, yeah! I declared my major, didn’t I tell you? I’m doubling in Environmental and Biology.”

“What happened to finding something marketable?”

“I decided it wasn’t worth it, if I wasn’t doing something I loved.” Jean was looking at him again, oddly this time, head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowed just a little. “I fucking read your textbook last semester, Eren, and pretty much thought it was the best thing ever. And then I read some more stuff and still loved it.” He reached a hand up, playing with his hair. “You could consider it, you know.”

Eren looked down at the text. “I like the environment,” he mumbled weakly.

“Sometimes I wonder about that. Sometimes I wonder what you’re gonna do this semester, now that you don’t have a History course to blow off steam with.”

“History major’s even more useless than Enviro,” Eren said. “Who am I gonna help with that?”

“Maybe you should stop thinking about helping people, and start thinking about being happy.”

Eren turned to look at Jean, who was still looking straight back at him. “Are we still talking about majors, here?” he asked quietly.

Jean didn’t answer for a minute, just bit his lip. Finally, he said, “I missed you.”

Eren punched the air. He high-fived the nurse. He high-fived Jean. He held up a hand for Zackley, who gave no indication that he’d noticed. Marco took his hand and squeezed it. Eren held both arms above his head, hollering, “I have four functioning limbs!”

“You have four functioning limbs!” Jean hollered in response. Marco just laughed.

Hanging out with Jean and Marco wasn't as much of a torture as Eren had originally suspected it would be. They made a palpable effort not to be clingy in his presence, and he was thankful for that - especially now that they were spending so much time together in rehearsal, which was meeting every night that week in preparation for tech week. All in all, Eren was finding himself quite content with the current course of events - not feeling the least bit left out, never as if he were a third wheel.

Friendship, it seemed, was truly underrated.

That Friday, once the company was done with their nightly run-through of the show, Jean and Eren walked to their dorm together to get ready for their individual events of the night. All Eren really needed to do was change, though Jean seemed to be having trouble with this concept.

"Come on, just tidy up your hair a bit, man," he fussed, "It looks all sweaty. Don't you wanna look nice?"

"Why should I?" Eren questioned. "You're the one who's going on a date, tonight. Do you really think I'm gonna seduce Reiner when he's already got two significant others and I'm friends with both of them?"

"Oh. Right."

"And you'd better get in the shower if you're gonna be on time to see Marco, dude."

Jean glanced at the clock. "Shit! You're right. Okay, I guess you're gonna be gone when I get back, so, uh... See you."

Eren reached up and patted him on the back. "Good luck."

Jean grinned down at him in return. "Thanks. You have fun with... Reiner."

"I'm sure I will. Now, go! You don't have time to loiter!"

"He'll understand if I'm a little late! He just had rehearsal too, you know."

"But you don't wanna make him wait outside in the cold, do you?"

"Good point. Okay, see you."

"See you."

Eren watched Jean walk out the door, workout clothes still on and towel slung over one shoulder - damn... He looked nice with his clothes clinging to him like that. How had Eren never noticed?

He let his thoughts linger on this for a moment before shaking it off. _Bad enough that I'm already lusting after Marco,_ he told himself. _Let's not open that can of worms._

He bent down, tied the laces of his boots, put on his down coat, and set off to meet up with Reiner, excitedly pondering what might be planned for the evening. If it was something Reiner wanted not to waste, it had to be good, right?

The weather was cold, but not unbearably so, he supposed, setting a quick pace down the snow-packed sidewalk. Better than January weather in Vermont, anyway. He glanced down at the snowbank, smiling fondly at the memory of his own inability to make a snowball. He'd have to surprise Marco next time they were outside together. He swung his right arm languidly through the air, still reveling in the freedom he felt with it fixed.

Reiner’s dorm wasn’t a very long way from his own, so before too long, he was standing in front of it, texting Reiner to let him know he’d arrived and sitting himself on the front steps to wait. He was a little early, so he assumed he might have some waiting ahead of him.

However, he didn’t expect to still be there forty-five minutes later, pacing back and forth to keep himself warm, not having received an answer in all that time. He rubbed his arms, teeth chattering, wondering desperately whether Reiner had gotten in some horrible accident, whether he should send yet another text. Every time he heard voices approaching him from down the sidewalk, he would glance up, hoping it was his friend, only to be disappointed over and over.

He blew into his hands, which, despite the mittens he was wearing, were feeling painfully numb. He wished he could just go inside, but nobody seemed to be coming in or out of the dorm, nobody to notice him and offer a seat and a hot drink. He doubted he’d be well able to accept, anyway, with his worry about Reiner mounting, but god, would he give anything just for some heating right now. Forget “better than Vermont”, he just wanted to go inside.

Finally, an hour into his wait - forty-five minutes after he was supposed to meet with Reiner - he heard a distant voice say, “Hey, isn’t that -?” And then a call of, “Eren! What are you doing out here?”

Eren turned to see Marco running up to him, Jean not far behind, both dressed in substantial coats and looking significantly less frozen than he felt. He opened his mouth, calling hoarsely, “Hey.”

Once he’d gotten close enough to get a good look at him, Jean’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh, my god, why aren’t you inside? You look like a popsicle!”

“I was supposed to meet Reiner, remember? And he’s late, he’s not answering his texts, I think something might have happened -”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Jean interrupted, “Let’s get you someplace warm, okay?”

Marco nodded, beginning to unzip his jacket. “Here, do you want another layer? The two of us were going to a cafe anyway - come with us, we can buy you something warm. Here, put it on.”

Eren shook his head, opening his mouth to object - he didn’t need another coat, he didn’t want to abandon Reiner, he didn’t want to interrupt their date when they were only, what, twenty minutes in? But his mouth felt so frozen that he had trouble forming the words and by the time he’d put together his argument, Marco’s coat was already around him and Jean was giving him another pair of mittens to put on, both other boys shushing his objection and pressing their bodies on either side of him, bustling him off toward the campus’s most popular coffee joint.

“I really wanna know what happened to Reiner,” he piped up over their fussing. “I’m really scared, he doesn’t normally do that, you know? Do you think his phone is dead?”

“Let’s worry about you right now, okay?” Jean said quickly.

“Yeah, let’s deal with what’s in front of us before we bring more abstract things into the picture,” Marco agreed, rubbing Eren’s back even as he walked, shivering a little in his sweater. “We will have to think about Reiner later, but first, let’s get you warmed up. We shouldn’t overstress - take things one at a time.”

By this point, they’d entered a larger throng of people, though not by a significant amount - after all, it was Friday, and most college kids were either in town drinking or preparing to go into town to drink - and the coffee shop was in sight. He went to insist that Marco took his coat back, but he was having none of it. Jean held the door for the two of them as they entered the cafe.

"I feel so bad that you're so cold," he muttered as he came in after them.

Eren considered this for a moment, distracted when Marco said, "Here, you two sit by the heater and I'll get in line. Do you know what you want?"

"Gimme an almond-chocolate steamer."

"Hot chocolate," Eren added, looking at Jean.

"Would you mind if I got something caffeinated?"

"What? Oh, ha, no, go ahead. That actually doesn't bother me at all, of all things. Come on, Eren, let's sit down." He ushered Eren, still in his double layers of coats and mittens, into a booth.

Eren fumbled with the mittens, the two sets making it difficult to remove any before Jean reached forward to help him tug them off. Once his fingers were fully exposed, Jean grasped them, inspecting them, before relaxing with a sigh, still clasping Eren's hands in his own.

"No frostbite. Thank god. I would've been so mad."

"Not cold enough for frostbite," Eren replied quietly, still in thought. Then, experimentally, he added, "Let go of my hands, I'm gonna call Reiner again."

"Reiner?" Jean asked, a blank look on his face. Then he jumped a foot in the air and exclaimed, "Oh, r-right, Reiner! Uh, lemme warm your hands up first, okay? Reiner's fine, he can wait a bit."

Eren yanked his hands away, pointing at Jean as he did so. "I knew it. I fucking - I _knew_ it. How do you know Reiner's okay, Jean?"

Jean's mouth hung open. His head sunk down, a red flush blooming over his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. "All according to plan?" He whispered squeakily.

"According to - you mean, _that_ plan? That fucking thing I've been trying to get out of everyone for the past week!?"

Jean averted his eyes. "Uh. Maybe."

Eren glanced behind him, making sure Marco was still occupied - good, he was still in line - and leaned toward Jean. "What the fuck are you trying to accomplish, babysitting me in the middle of your date?"

"We both wanted you here," Jean said, looking like he wanted to melt into the wall.

"Wanted me - Jean, do you fucking realize that I like Marco? Don't you see the flaws in this plan?" It took him a moment to realize what he'd said, and he scrambled to take it back - shit, fuck, it was out, he'd said too fucking much oh shit - but then -

"Of course I know that," Jean sighed, tracing the patterns formed in the wood of the table with one finger. "I've known that for months, you dumbass."

Eren stared at him for a long time. He tried saying something, but every word felt like he was choking. Finally, he propped his arms on the edge of the table, burying his face in them to just... Think. For a moment.

The dancing. Jean's insistence that he help teach Marco, his making the two of them dance together, his making every effort to get them alone together, his look of sheer horror when Marco had asked him out instead of Eren.

How had he never figured it out, before? How had he not noticed all the signs?

Why had Jean done it, if he liked Marco?

At last, Eren turned up his head, chin still atop his arms, and looked at Jean - just looked at him - for a long moment. He didn't even acknowledge Jean looking back at him, the expression of surprise, the question about what he was up to now.

Jean's narrow eyes were rimmed with long eyelashes that cast shadows on his cheeks. They looked like his hair - dark at the roots, fading as they tapered away from his face.

His nose was straight, with a small bump just as it turned out from his brow. It was a little long, fitting well with his longer, slimmer face. It had never been broken.

His mouth had a curve to it, evident even without a neutral expression on his face. The corners of it pointed consistently downward, giving him a somewhat permanent pouting expression.

Eren knew all these things. When, exactly, had he noticed them? Were these things that he'd picked up, subconsciously, over time? Had he seen them all at once, the first time they'd met, or at some point afterward? Why hadn't he noticed himself noticing them? Had he been too determined to prove to his friends that they weren't together? Had Marco distracted him?

When had he fallen in love with Jean Kirschstein?

Somebody's hand gently placed a cup in front of him, the rest of their body sliding into the booth across to him, next to Jean. Marco.

"Uh, what?"

"I was just asking if you felt any warmer, yet," Marco replied, tilting his head quizzically. "You're still wearing both jackets."

"Oh - right - sorry! Here, you can have it back -"

"Only when you're done -"

"No, no, I'm feeling better, really, just take it."

When Eren pushed the coat forward, Marco reached toward him, clasping his hand in his own - not unlike Jean a couple minutes earlier. "Your hands are still a little cold," he said, "Let me warm them up."

Eren looked at Jean. Jean was smiling adoringly, looking between Eren and Marco and their intertwined hands. "Okay, Marco," he sighed, putting forward his other hand.

What was Jean doing? Why was he trying to set Eren up with Marco, even now, when they - Jean and Marco - were technically together? Where was the appeal in Eren being with him, instead?

 _Why did I try to pair them up?_ Eren asked himself. He shook it off - he knew why, Jean had liked him first, it was only fair, he was okay with just being friends, all that crap. He wasn't important; he had to figure Jean out, here.

"Eren?"

He perked up, realizing suddenly that Jean and Marco had been talking while he'd spaced out. "Hm?"

Marco gave him an amused, if embarrassed, grin, (holy shit Marco don't do that it's not fair) and asked, "Wanna come to the movie with us?"

"The... Movie?"

"Remember that time we went to the Filmmaker's movie night?" Jean reminded him, and Eren nodded. "Well, they're having another one tonight. Same deal as last time, sitting on blankets, wearing p.j.s, that sort of thing. Just inside this time, since it's cold out."

Sitting on blankets in the dark, wearing pajamas with his crush and the guy he was suddenly noticing himself noticing - it sounded like a dream come true. "I don't wanna impose," he said reluctantly, slipping his hands out of Marco's. "And I don't - I'm not wearing night things."

"We're not, either!" Marco assured him, "We were figuring, we'd come here, talk a bit, and if we had time, we'd run back to our dorms and change. If not, we could just go straight there, clothing choice be damned."

"And trust me," Jean added, looking closely at him with those misty golden eyes - _fucking stop that Eren Jaeger you are an adult you can do this_ \- "You're not imposing. We'd love having you there with us, wouldn't we, Marco?"

"Sure thing!" Marco replied, smiling enthusiastically.

Well. He was out of excuses - Marco himself had said that he wanted him there, after all. "Okay," Eren conceded, feeling himself return Marco's smile, "I'll come with you. Just. Try to keep the movie makeouts to a minimum, alright?"

Jean waggled his eyebrows. "What if you were participating?"

Heat creeped into his face. "What."

Marco playfully slapped Jean's shoulder. "Don't get him so flustered, Jean."

"Sorry. I just wanted to see the look on his face."

Eren stuck up his middle finger. Jean just laughed. Marco raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Drink your cocoa, dude, you don't want it getting cold."

"Okay," Marco briefed them, having stopped on a street corner directly between their dorms. "So, meet back here when we're ready? That sound good?"

"Yep," Jean agreed, glancing at Eren for his nodded confirmation. “And the movie starts in twenty, so. Hurry, I guess.”

“Sure thing! I’ll be right back, guys!”

The two of them watched Marco’s retreating backside for a moment before Eren jumped, looked down at his hands, and shouted, “Marco, wait! I’ve got your gloves!” Marco didn’t seem to hear. “Marco!”

“Let him go, Eren,” Jean told him. “He’s only going to his dorm and back, he’ll be fine. You can give them back when we meet up again.”

Eren chewed his lip gently, glancing at Jean, then gluing his eyes to the ground. “Right. Um. Let’s go.”

“Oh, yeah! Let’s hurry, we don’t want him to be waiting when we get back.”

The two of them walked on down the sidewalk. It was only when their dorm was already within sight that Eren opened his mouth to ask, hesitantly, “Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“You do… _like_ Marco, right? I’m not crazy, I’m not just imagining you told me that, right?” He let his eyes flicker to Jean’s face again, astonished to find Jean staring back at him, cheeks red. “Because I - just. Your actions, they’re confusing me. I don’t get why you’re trying to match me and Marco up. That’s - that’s what you’re doing, right?”

Jean turned away from him, still walking. “Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

“I don’t see why we can’t talk about it now! I don’t think you get how frustrated and confused and all that shit I am right now! I don’t get why you’re making these elaborate plans that everybody knows about except me! Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you in our dorm, okay? Is that good enough? Let’s not talk about this in public!”

Eren curled both hands into fists, contemplating the proposition. “Okay. But - you’ll do it, right? You’re not just saying you will to get me to shut up about it?”

“Eren, we’re practically there already. If I want you to forget about it, I’m gonna have to try a lot harder.”

They were at the steps of their building. “Good point,” Eren muttered. “Well - as soon as we’re in our room, okay? You’ll tell me? Everything?”

“I don’t know if there’s time for everything. I’ll tell you why I made the plan, okay? The rest can come later.”

“... Fine. Fine, tell me about this plan thing.” Jean held the door for him. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Jean exhaled, long, slow, agonizing. They headed for the stairwell together, climbed to their floor. Eren looked quickly at the whiteboard hanging on their door - still “Jean and Aaron”, just how he liked it - and even smiled a little.

“I like that you’re doing that again, at least.”

“You’re not changing it back, though,” Jean mumbled, “It’s no fun if you don’t do your bit.”

Eren rolled his eyes, reached up to the whiteboard, and wiped away “ _Aaron_ ” to replace it with his name. “There. Happy?”

“Yes,” Jean replied, “Because now I can do this.” He erased Eren’s work and wrote “ _Aaron_ ” once more. Eren smacked his forehead. Jean snickered at him as he unlocked their door, holding it open for Eren yet again.

“Okay,” Eren said as they entered the room. “Spill it. Now. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Don’t you wanna change first?”

“What did I just say? I’ve been wondering about this for ages, dude. For a week - no, you know what, I’ve been wondering what’s been going on since the dance lessons with Marco. Before Thanksgiving - that’s almost two months. I think I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Jean leaned back on the door, eyes on the floor. “Right. That’s… That makes sense.” He kept avoiding Eren’s gaze, took a moment to just linger, breathing in and out.

Eren’s patience was wearing thin. He ripped off his gloves, his coat, glancing back at Jean every once in a while to see him in that same spot. “Well?” he finally jabbed.

Jean finally looked at him, frowning in a disgruntled fashion. “Give me a minute, okay? This is hard to just come out and say. I’m not you, I’m not Marco, I can’t just spit things out as they come into my brain and still have it sound good.”

“You’re the one who said we needed to hurry, man.”

Thumping his head against the door, Jean groaned and turned his eyes upward, toward the ceiling. “Okay,” he whispered, half to himself. “Okay. Okay, just… Don’t say anything for a bit, okay? I need to say this, and you need to promise not to hit me.”

“Go on,” Eren pressed.

Jean waited another moment. “I,” he began, then paused, then forced himself to continue, “I do like Marco. Okay? I do like him. A lot, in fact.”

Eren nodded slowly, still not seeming to comprehend.

“I’m not… in _love_ with him, though.” Jean’s face was red, deep red, as he said these words, and he was looking everywhere except at Eren, who had settled himself on his bed, sensing that this might take a while. “I… I _love_ someone else. Not Marco. Even though I do like him a lot.”

“Then who -”

“Please,” Jean said quickly, but not especially forcefully, “Just. Let me talk. Please, Eren.”

Eren stared at him for a long moment. “Okay, Jean,” he replied quietly.

It took another second of him breathing deep, thinking things through, for Jean to come up with the words to say. “The guy I’m in love with,” he mumbled, drawing the words out carefully, “He’s… amazing. He’s kind of a buttface, but I - well, I love him, you know that. He’s not very tall. He’s got brown hair, and he doesn’t really give a shit what it looks like, even when I tell him to take care of it.” He let out a shy little laugh.

Eren listened to his words, the furrow between his brows growing more pronounced as Jean went. Who was this mystery character? He didn’t know anyone who fit that description, unless…

“His eyes… They’re just - they’re amazing. They’re big, bigger than anybody’s I’ve ever seen, and they’re - god, how can I even describe them? They’re blue, and they’re green, and they’re silvery, all at the same time. They kinda glimmer in some lights, and when you - he - talks about things he likes.”

Jean’s slip of the tongue sent a spear of realization through Eren, sharp and piercing and making all too much sense all of a sudden - and he gasped, “Jean, I -”

“And,” Jean interrupted, finally looking into his eyes, freezing him there, “Even though he’s such a jerk when we argue, even though he’s gone through horrible things in his lifetime, even though I’m hardly even worth the effort to anyone but him, he takes care of me.”

“Anyone would -”

“He’s the only one who’s ever gone to such lengths to make sure I’m okay.”

“Any decent person -”

“He’s never, ever, _ever_ told me my phobia was stupid or ridiculous or something I could just get over. Do you fucking realize how many times I’ve heard that? But he’s never said a word. And he tried his hardest to get me together with Marco, even though he liked him, too. He danced with me because I’m a loser who can’t get anybody else to do it with me.”

“Like hell,” Eren growled, “Sasha or Connie or Christa would all -”

“I wouldn’t be friends with them if you hadn’t helped me, Eren.”

“Well, do you realize how much you’ve done for me, too, Jean?! Or _him,_ if you’re gonna insist on that bullshit thing, whatever that was -”

“It was easier than just coming out and saying it, okay?!”

“But you’ve been trying so hard for me, too, to get me with Marco -”

“Like that even _begins_ to compensate -”

“I never did any of that as a favor, it was just what anyone would -”

“You’re wrong! You’re so fucking wrong, Eren, that’s not what anyone would do! You’re the only person in the entire fucking world who is as ridiculously selfless as you are -”

“What about Marco?! He’s a lot more nice than I am -”

“I never said _nice._ Who ever said you’re _nice?_ I called you a jerk about a million times just now. The point is, you’re _kind,_ Eren, you’re such a kind person. You care for people, and you care _about_ people, regardless of what they have and haven’t done, regardless of whether you like them, regardless of whether you even _know_ them. I don’t think even Marco does that, Eren. That’s just you. That’s all just - you.” Jean’s voice broke and he was staring at Eren, looking as if he was about to cry. He was breathing heavily, just fighting to catch his breath for a second, before he finally concluded, “I want… I want to see you take care of yourself, for once. I want you to be your own first priority. I don’t want you to major in something you don’t even like - and don’t you tell me about how much you like Enviro, Eren, because we both know that’s a lie - just because you want to help people. I don’t want you to sit by and be miserable just because you think you’re helping me, because that just makes me miserable, and it makes Marco miserable, too.”

Eren felt his lower lip trembling, felt the logic in Jean’s words prod at his conscious, felt his own eyes stinging. “So,” he grumbled, “Fine. I get that… that you feel like you owe me. I get that you’re in l-love with me. I don’t get - I don’t get the plan, still. Why not just ditch me with Marco?”

Jean stepped forward, sitting on the edge of Eren’s bed, knees touching Eren’s, and Eren found the intimacy oddly relaxing. “Because I’m selfish,” Jean replied, still looking at Eren, not angry anymore, just endearing and exasperated, “And I’m in love with you, and I like Marco, and I’m not gonna let you two get away from me.” He leaned toward Eren, reached his hand up, caressing Eren’s hair like he’d done in the hospital, like he’d done after Eren’s nightmare, like he was brushing away all the pain and pressure that was suffocating Eren.

“So,” Eren mumbled, letting Jean pet him, staring down at Jean’s feet, so close to his own, “All three of us?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Does Marco…”

“He doesn’t know the details, if that’s what you’re asking. He just said he liked the idea and let me take over.”

Eren pondered this. He was in love with Marco, he knew that for sure. Now he kind of thought he loved Jean, too. If all three of them were together… He hadn’t dared to hope, but now that it was becoming reality, he found that his body seemed lighter, the entire world brighter. This was what he wanted. He took a deep breath. “... Jean?”

“Hm?”

Eren drew his eyes upward, taking Jean in, finding himself unable to look higher than the collar of his coat for some reason. “I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Jean, stop it. I said yes.”

“I’m just - making sure, wow, I’m -” Jean’s voice was breathless again, excited, and Eren found himself smiling at how much of a dork this guy was. He finally looked into Jean’s face, seeing his widened eyes, his huge grin. “I’m so happy. I’m - I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?” The hand he’d been running through Eren’s hair slid to the back of his head, ready to pull Eren forward.

“Do it,” Eren told him, breath escaping him in a rush of airy laughter as he said the words, as Jean pulled Eren towards him, and then their lips connected.

It was a kiss like any other, brief, just a little press together before they disconnected and pulled back a little to look each other in the eyes, but never in his life had any kiss left Eren so fluttery. He broke into more nervous laughter as they looked at each other, and soon enough, Jean was doing the same thing, between pressing his mouth to Eren’s again and again.

“I love you, Eren.”

“Me, too,” Eren giggled as Jean kissed his nose.

“You have the cutest laugh when you’re like this.”

“You do, too, you jerk.”

“Buttface.”

“Asshole.”

“Shithead.”

Eren jumped when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. “Oh, shit,” He gasped, glancing at his alarm clock, “We’re late, we’ve gotta change -”

“You know what? Forget the movie. Let’s just get Marco and come back here. I don’t wanna watch whatever they’re playing, I wanna talk and kiss and stuff. And tell Marco things are okay.”

“I think I like that idea,” Eren agreed, giving Jean another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tumblr Post; http://missplacemat.tumblr.com/post/90263566548/a-dance-for-three-chapter-6-of-7-8  
> EDIT; OOH YEAH ALSO I am taking short fic requests on my Tumblr! I'd really appreciate some unique requests because I feel like my repertoire is kinda limited :[ I'm willing to do most pairings, so please hit me up!!


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